


As Many Great Things Do

by Fandomgeekery



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alfred is a wanna-be greaser, Alternate Universe - Greasers, Fluff, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Making Out, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, ameripan - Freeform, not always historically accurate, the world always needs more ameripan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-11 05:47:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 103,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8956822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fandomgeekery/pseuds/Fandomgeekery
Summary: It started, as many great things do, as a feud. Alfred F. Jones didn’t actually know what it was about; he hadn’t been paying attention. He just knew that there was some kind of spat between his big brother Arthur and some other guys. He just knew that Arthur was taking his little posse to a rumble-- a fight between his group and theirs. And that Arthur was letting Alfred tag along.





	1. Brawl

It started, as many great things do, as a feud. Alfred F. Jones didn’t actually know what it was about; he hadn’t been paying attention. He just knew that there was some kind of spat between his big brother Arthur and some other guys. He just knew that Arthur was taking his little posse to a rumble-- a fight between his group and theirs. And that Arthur was letting Alfred tag along. 

Alfred couldn’t have been more excited. He was bouncing all around in his shoes, smiling from ear to ear, twirling his baseball bat that was  _ sure  _ to pack a punch, and pretending that he hadn’t dropped it with a loud clatter on the ground more than once. Arthur had never wanted him to come along, thinking that he’d only have to be babysat. But Alfred wasn’t some little kid anymore. And it was the best feeling in the world. 

Plus he would get to fight the bad guys! Just like in his comics that Artie never stopped teasing him about; claiming that they were childish. Psh!  _ Artie _ was the childish one if he couldn’t see how  _ absolutely totally awesome _ the superheroes were. 

Alfred was so caught up in his little bubble of joy that he didn’t notice that the others had come to a halt. He noticed when he ran into Artie, causing the smaller, but older, fellow to stumble. Arthur sighed in exasperation at him over his shoulder. Alfred gave back an innocent look, motioning to Yao, the Chinese member of Arthur’s buddies, to cast the blame onto him. Arthur rolled his eyes. “Why did I even let you come along?” he groaned into his hand that he used to cover his face as though Al were giving him a migraine. “Actually, don’t answer that. Don’t answer anything. Just be quiet and stay quiet.” Yeah,  _ as if _ . Alfred looked out across the empty, cracked parking lot surrounded on three sides by abandoned buildings. Narrow, dark alleyways between them were the only other entrances or exits besides the loose chain link fence that they now stood at. The sun was beginning to sink and cast the whole place into long shadows. Right on. 

Only, he didn’t see anyone besides their group… They wouldn’t really chicken out, would they? Maybe they saw Ivan and beat feet getting away. The towering Russian, oddly cheery as ever, was smiling sweetly, if you could call it that, behind that scarf he never took off. Alfred wouldn’t blame them if that  _ was _ the case… But Arthur didn’t seem to think it was as he lifted up a portion of the fence for them to all wriggle under. Alfred made sure to shove past the others to be the first under. Passing from one side of the fence to the other offered no great revelations. The lot was still empty. No bad guys…

“Ciao!” sang a happy, high-pitched voice that Alfred  _ sweared _ appeared out of  _ nowhere _ . Alfred was spared the embarrassment when he saw that none of the others had seen the slim brunet with a single curl in his hair until he had hopped up and greeted them. They looked at him… He waved back. Was this… Was this the guy that Arthur had started a fight with? 

The deep sigh could be heard from across the lot. Oh. Curly wasn’t alone, then. Ah, whatever. They could take them! Alfred could take them all by himself! Singlehandedly! The hero of the night! Maybe Arthur would stop looking at him like he was an idiot. 

Then, Curly’s companion stood up-- a blond, hulking mass of man.

Um. Hey, this was Alfred’s first rumble. It’d be pretty silly to expect him to take out everyone by himself. That was what the allies were for, right? Right. 

It wasn’t  _ just _ Blondie and Curly, though. No, a  _ third _ cat emerged from those shadows too-- a solemn-faced Asian that stood back a bit behind the others. So, three bad guys vs. four good guys. Piece of cake. He gripped his bat tighter, his smile stretching even more. “Alfred,” Arthur stopped him. “Just take the Asian one. It will keep you out of our way.” Why did  _ Arthur _ get to call the shots? That just wasn’t right. Alfred didn’t have long to mope, though, because everyone charged. Curly was screeching and running before anyone could even lay a finger on him. 

“Alright, I’ve got this,” Alfred said, mostly to himself. He looked around for his target… Uh… Where’d he go?

A sharp punch in the kidney sent him reeling. “OW!” he exclaimed, whirling around, shocked and hurt, to face the person he’d been looking for. Dark eyes glinted as they met his blue ones. It happened so fast. Alfred, forgetting about his weapon, retaliated by throwing a punch of his own, which was easily dodged. A kick caught Alfred squarely in the gut, causing the air to rush out of his lungs in time with the disoriented swing of his bat. A lucky shot. It hit a little harder than he’d intended it to… and square across the back of the guy’s head. They crumpled to the cement together-- Alfred trying to catch his breath and the other unconscious.


	2. Honda Kiku

Honda Kiku woke up to an aching head, which was promptly followed by confusion. He remembered the rumble clear as day. Kiku had gone down hard. He groaned softly, forcing his eyes to open to take in his surroundings-- assuming that Ludwig or perhaps Feliciano had carried him home, as he wasn’t lying in a heap in the lot. The room was awfully bright... The first thing he registered: this was neither his, Feliciano’s, nor Ludwig’s house. The second: he wasn’t alone. “Hey, dude! Are you awake?” asked a loud voice at his side. Kiku shot upright and found himself dizzy. He managed to focus, bewildered, on the person that was speaking. He recognized him. “Great! You’re up! Woo, I was pretty worried there for a bit! Sorry for hitting you upside the head like that. I didn’t mean to  _ actually _ hurt you!”

“You… You struck me with a baseball bat…” Kiku reminded him blearily, squinting at the blond in confusion, still trying to take all this in. 

“ _ Yeah _ , but, aside from that… I brought you back to my place, ‘cause you wouldn’t wake up. You slept through the night. But you’re fine now! Probably hungry… I got an extra burger for you, if you want it. I  _ am _ your hero, after all.” He smiled a wide smile that one could only describe as  _ gleeful _ . He called himself Kiku’s hero… after he had rendered him unconscious with a stick of metal. This was definitely an  _ interesting  _ situation. “What’s your name, anyway?” The ‘hero’ asked. Asking his name after he had been injured and all but kidnapped by this person? He was an unusual sort. 

“Why would you want to know?” he asked, averting the question. 

“I don’t know. I feel like we’ve just gone through quite a bit together… I’d kinda like to put a name to the face when I tell the tale, ya dig?”

“And you are the one who got us into said situation. I believe I am the one in need of information here. What is  _ your _ name?” The stranger sighed dramatically. 

“Alfred. My name’s Alfred. Now tell me yours.”

“Kiku. Call me Kiku,” he parted with the statement warily. 

“Kiku…” Alfred said, rolling it around in his mouth before deciding it had a funny taste. “That’s a weird name, dude!” he informed him. 

“It is better than my family name…”

“Ah, maybe that’s it! What’s your ‘family name’, then, champ?” Alfred asked, leaning closer and tilting his head , childishly fascinated by Kiku. The protruding cowlick sticking up amid his hair bounced around with every move he made. He wore rectangular glasses over sparkling blue eyes, blue jeans, sneakers, and a leather jacket much like Kiku’s, only newer. He looked much more like a soc, actually, than a greaser. He had none of the telltale oily, slicked back locks, nor the thug-like air about him, just the jacket and the association with others was his claim to the title. Kiku snapped out of it. He had been asked a question.

“My name is Honda Kiku--”

“NO WAY! LIKE A CAR?!” Alfred yelled in delight, mildly startling the Japanese man. 

“I suppose…?”

“No wonder you want me to call ya Kiku!” Kiku guessed that he probably should have been offended, but he wasn’t. For one, he was too used to such a reaction. Secondly, he didn’t usually get angry… in general. Thirdly, there was _something_ about the American’s attitude that he just couldn’t find himself unhappy with. Even though he had been attacked with sports equipment by this person. Perhaps he had been hit across the head a little harder than he had  originally thought…

“Well, I thank you for your assistance, but I really must be going…” Kiku excused himself, swinging his legs over the side of the bed to get up, ignoring the slight pang in his chest at seeing Alfred’s face fall. His head decided to take that moment to make itself known, the light ache turning to a sharp throbbing with the exertion. Kiku made the mistake of letting his wince of pain show. Alfred noticed it, despite Kiku’s silent prayers that he wouldn’t. 

“Woah, woah, woah, dude! Not so fast! You took quite a hit, there! I think maybe you should take it easy for a bit,” Alfred insisted. 

“I appreciate your concern, but I really must be getting home. If it makes you feel any better, I will relax there. I shouldn’t be here…”

“Pfft! Please! What kind of hero would I be if I let you mess yourself up even more? At least stay for a bit and have some lunch.” He couldn’t say no to that… 

“Alright…” Kiku consented quietly, hesitantly. Alfred’s reaction was immediate, pumping a fist in the air accompanied with a loud ‘YAAAAAY!’ that didn’t help Kiku’s headache by any means. 

“Stay here! I’ll be right back!” Alfred hollered over his shoulder as he bounded out of the room. Kiku was starting to second guess himself. Why would he  _ agree _ to staying in such a crazy person’s house any longer than he had to? Alfred just seemed to have that effect on him… though he wasn’t entirely sure as to  _ why _ . 

Alfred was back in no time at all, clutching a glass of water and a somewhat smashed little round package. He shoved both of them at Kiku, smiling proudly. Kiku murmured his thanks and gently took the hamburger and water from Alfred, unwrapping the food quietly in his lap as Alfred watched him. Kiku wasn’t entirely sure what the man was waiting for as he took a bite. A greasy slab of some type of meat product passing off as beef, oozing with condiments and toppings that spilled over the sides of the bun and plopped down into the wrapper. He nodded, meaning to imply that it was good and Alfred could back off. He didn’t, naturally, not sensing Kiku’s mood. Instead, he threw himself down on the bed, the springs bouncing and squeaking in protest, leaning against the wall. 

He talked a lot as Kiku ate in silence; going on about one thing or another, using many names that Kiku didn’t know frequently as if the two of them had always been great buddies. From what Kiku  _ could _ make out, though, Alfred was the little brother of someone called Arthur, who had initiated the rumble between their groups. It had been Alfred’s first rumble. He seemed to have been more under the impression that he was defeating some wretched antagonists and not hurting actual people. Kiku had changed that. Alfred apologized. Multiple times. Most of those explaining that he was more of a heroic type and that Kiku didn’t look like such a bad guy (which, of course, begged the question of what a bad guy  _ did _ look like, but he said nothing). After what seemed like an eternity, he finished the lunch. 

Alfred was starting to get the idea that Kiku didn’t really want to stay. Or, at least, he let him go without anymore protests other than insisting he walk him to the door. “You know how to get home from here?” Alfred asked, holding the door open for him as he stepped out onto the porch. The area looked vaguely familiar. Ah, he was sure he would figure it out. He nodded in reply. Kiku stepped out, silently exhaling a breath that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, and immediately shivered at a chilly late-autumn breeze that slid through his worn, holey leather jacket. Alfred hesitated momentarily before reaching just inside the door and grabbing something before holding it out to Kiku. 

It was an aviator’s jacket. 

“Here, you can go ahead and ta-- uh, borrow this. It’s kind of my favorite jacket, but, ya know, I’m a greaser now. Gotta look the part, right?  Otherwise they’ll just think I’m some annoying soc skuzz. It’s cold out there. And I kinda owe it to ya after all that, yeah?” Kiku watched him carefully. He was still smiling, but this time it was something more genuine than what it had been. Something more carefully given. Something with an unexpected amount of meaning behind it. Maybe Kiku was just being silly, overthinking it… but he didn’t think so. 

“Thank you, Alfred-san…” he said quietly, finally looking up into those eyes for the first time and feeling them drilling a hole straight into his heart. “For everything…” he added as an afterthought, gently accepting the jacket and slipping it on over his shoulders, the massive amount of fabric that fit on Alfred dwarfing Kiku. He wasn’t sure what more to say, and yet, inexplicably, his feet remained rooted to the spot… However, the moment was gone as soon as it had begun.

Alfred, putting his hands on his hips and standing up straight and proud gave him a firm nod. Back to the person that he had woken up to see. “No problem, dude! Hope you get to feeling better!”

Kiku shuffled home, huddling down in Alfred’s jacket that smelled of teriyaki-- likely from the amount of forgotten beef jerky stuffed in both pockets, of the house that he had just come from, and of something that could only have been Alfred himself, as he had mentioned it was his favorite jacket… 

His mind was a mess as he navigated through the streets, on the rougher side of town and getting worse as he went. For a while he chalked it up to being related to the head injury that he’d been dealt, which he seemed to have to keep reminding himself about, because the rest of his mind was swimming with a pair of blue eyes and a brash voice.  


	3. The Schoolyard

Arthur returned home not long after Kiku had left, which was pretty fantastic timing. It saved Alfred a lot of explaining. Arthur would probably give him some plummily-spoken lecture about consorting with the enemy or somethin’... Which was actually pretty hypocritical when it got right down to  _ Arthur’s _ associates. Heheh… As **_soc_ ** iate. Francis Bonnefoy was great and all; he couldn’t even  _ count _ the number of times the two of them had annoyed the living daylights out of Arthur, which was the most fun in the whole wide world when it got right down to it. But he was a soc. A soc who loved fashion and love and all sorts of ooey gooey things like that. He was still kind of their ally, though. He just didn’t tend to show up when he was needed. He just did, and often. Arthur yelling about him being uninvited and stuff like that, but it was all an act; them hating each other. They were pretty close friends. Fought like a married couple and were both total toolbags; they were perfect for each other. Sometimes he would bring along his own little brother, Matthew. He was pretty cool, but very quiet. Francis and Mattie were over so often that they were all practically family. One big, dysfunctional family. It was was great. 

Especially when Francis was the one who made dinner for all of them. 

There was a reason that Alfred had gone ahead and grabbed some fast food for he and Kiku: Artie planned on cooking. It was not so much a matter that Arthur  _ could _ not cook (and he definitely  _ would _ ); it was a matter of whether he  _ should _ (which he shouldn’t). So much of an issue, actually, that the ‘should not’ was passing into ‘could not’ territory. Better to clog the ol’ arteries with some tasty heart attack on a bun (with lettuce and ketchup for the ever-important vegetables) than choking down… whatever it was supposed to be… that Artie insisted he choke down.

That matter was taken care of. He could just spout off some baloney about forgetting Arthur was cooking or that he was too hungry to wait. He was a greaser. Rebellion was something to be expected, right? Totally. 

But…

His first experience with actually  _ being _ a greaser hadn’t been the best… He’d hurt somebody. That somebody had turned out to be  _ Kiku _ … Who, yeah, he didn’t know at all, but… But… He wasn’t sure where he was going with this train of thought. It was just…  _ Kiku _ … Whatever that meant. Something about the small Japanese guy… He’d been his hero, after all. He’d carried him home, bought him lunch with his own money (that he would pay Arthur back for later), and… he’d given him his jacket. His  _ favorite jacket _ . Alfred had his reasons, of course. Good reasons. Right. He was a greaser. He had no need for the old aviator jacket anyway. He had his cool new leather jacket. Kiku needed it more; he’d been cold. It had been the nice thing to do. Alfred  _ was _ a hero… and he  _ did _ owe it to him after knocking him out cold. Good reasons. Not, like, so he might possibly see him again.

WOAH THAT COULD SO TOTALLY WORK.

Alfred could use the excuse of wanting the jacket back. Perfect. He and Kiku could talk; Kiku was cool. Not to mention that he was basically one of Arthur’s enemies, so it’d be like flipping the finger to him too; always a welcome bonus. The perfect plan. 

So… why was Alfred’s stomach all weird, why was his heart beating like that, at the very thought of chatting with Kiku again?

Ah, probably just the burger. 

 

School was such a drag. If Arthur was a drag, then school was, like, so much worse. Putting them both together was one of the worst combinations out there. And yet, besides Arthur, Yao, Ivan, and Francis (who all would undoubtedly be with Arthur at some point or another), who was he supposed to hang out with? So, he searched out Mattie, who was sitting alone on one of the park benches, ignored by the others-- even the hoods that picked on loners like him. “HEY, MATTIE!” he greeted loudly, swinging himself over the back of the bench like the totally awesome person he was. 

“Hello, Alfred,” came the tiny reply that came with a tiny smile. 

“Watcha doin’ here all alone, champ?” Alfred went ahead and asked. He perked up , unusual for him, his large purple eyes all gleaming with the thought of something. 

“Waiting for someone, actually,” he said, smiling down sweetly at the ground. Huh, weird. 

“NO WAY! I’M ACTUALLY LOOKING FOR SOMEONE!”

“Anyone in particular?” Matthew laughed softly. 

“Yeah! Maybe you know him!”

“What’s his name, eh? We can swap.”

“His name is Kiku! I met him yesterday! He’s really cool!” Alfred gushed immediately. 

“I think I’ve heard the name before… I’m waiting for,” he paused to smile a bit. “Um, his name is Gilbert--”

“NO WAY! BEILSCHMIDT?! DUDE!” 

“What?” Matthew asked weakly, half taken aback by the reaction, half understanding. 

“DID SOMEBODY CALL MY AWESOME NAME?” It was too late. They’d summoned him: the cocky, egotistical, albino German who constantly insisted upon being referred to as  _ Prussian _ . A total skuzz. 

Alfred wanted to be his friend so bad. Maybe Mattie hanging out with him consequently gave Al a reason to hang out with him. They’d be the best of friends, he was sure of it. “Hey, Gil,” Mattie said, almost whispered, shyly as he looked up at the guy whose black jacket starkly contrasted with the shade of his skin. Gilbert Beilschmidt sat down, slinging an arm across the back of the bench behind Matthew’s shoulders, focused solely on the Canadian and ignoring Alfred. That was a new one. But good for Mattie. “Um… This is a close family friend of mine, Alfred F. Jones,” Matthew introduced after he came back from getting lost in the red eyes, waving a hand toward him. Alfred gave the Ger--  _ Prussian _ a nod. Beilschmidt stuck out a pale hand to Alfred, which he took. 

“Alfred,” he confirmed with a grin that Gilbert must have felt the need to outdo because his own stretched at least twice as big. 

“As I’ve been told. It seems you already  _ know _ my name considering you were screaming it.” Gilbert stretched out like a cat with his legs in front of him, crossed at the ankles, leaning against Mattie (who had a slightly pink blush settled on his cheeks) casually. “So! What brings you here today?” he continued in an attempt to make conversation. 

“Uh, school?” Alfred snorted, thinking himself hilarious. Gilbert let his head roll to the side to look at Alfred with an arched eyebrow, though he was smirking. “Ah, actually I’m looking for this one guy. Honda Kiku? Ya know, like the car?”

“HEY! I KNOW HIM!” Gilbert shouted, slamming a hand that wasn’t across Mattie onto the bench in excitement. 

“NO WAY! DO YOU KNOW WHERE HE COULD BE?” Alfred yelled back, overjoyed and smiling ear to ear. 

“Probably with my bruder, Ludwig.  _ Total loser _ ! And his ever-present other half, Feliciano,” Gilbert answered animatedly with a wave of his hand. 

“What does, uh,  _ Ludwig _ look like?” Alfred asked, looking around the yard and still not seeing any signs of the small Japanese man. Gilbert sighed dreamily.

“Not as awesomely hot as  _ me _ , of course, but… Look for someone fitting the description of  _ total beefcake _ and blond with an affinity for hair gel and small Italians,” he described. Al was looking for Blondie and Curly, then. Couldn’t be too hard… 

Alfred left Matthew and Beilschmidt alone as he started on his search. It didn’t take very long to locate the trio. Blondie and Curly--  _ Ludwig and Feliciano _ \-- were kicking around a soccer ball in a grassy area. Kiku was there, as promised, sitting on the sidelines, curled up and reading. The two were so into their game, and Kiku so into his book, that none of them noticed Alfred bound over. “Hey, dude! What’re ya reading?” Alfred asked, plopping down next to the person he’d been searching for before craning to look over his shoulder. It startled Kiku.

“A-Alfred! What are you doing here?” he asked staring up at him, dumbfounded. 

“I dunno, man, I just--” Alfred started, cut off when Kiku grabbed a fistful of his shirt and dragged him out of view of his two friends. “Woahwoahwoah!  _ Hey _ !” he protested. “What’s the big idea?”

“I could ask you the same question. Why would you want them to see me with you? We are rivals; it could be problematic. Why would you come to see me again?” Kiku asked in one rush of breath. Alfred was knocked a little off balance by that. 

“I-I don’t know, dude. I’m… sorry…? I just kind of wanted my jacket back… Thought you may be wearing it or somethin’...” he said, slouching as if he were a kicked puppy. The tensed muscles in Kiku’s face softened slightly as he looked at him. 

“I-It’s alright… I apologize for snapping at you as such. It was not cold today… I didn’t need a jacket…” he explained weakly. “I don’t see a problem with you coming over to fetch it after school, if you wish…?” Kiku looked away, blushing, and missed Alfred light up like the Sun.

“Hey, yeah! Definitely!” Alfred agreed, bouncing on his toes. Kiku looked at him for a minute more, something curious gleaming in those brown eyes, before giving Al a curt nod and hurrying away with his head down. 

Alfred slumped back against the rough bricks of the school building, chalking up his shortness of breath while talking to the Jap and the chemicals rushing hundreds of miles per hour through his bloodstream to needing to exercise more. 

 


	4. Picking Up the Jacket

Alfred tapped his pencil rapidly against his desk, staring up at the clock as it ticked down the last seconds of the school day. He had been so unfocused the entire day. And he didn’t know why. All he knew was that his mind kept wandering back to Honda Kiku and going over to his house after school. Why was he gonna do that again? Oh right, the jacket… Yeah. It was just the jacket. Mmhm. The bell rang. 

Alfred was out of the classroom before its shrill announcement had come to a stop. 

Kiku was fidgeting nervously with a loose string in his shirt as he waited for Alfred in the same place they had parted ways. Alfred suppressed the urge to sprint over and tackle the smaller person to the ground in a hug. And also ignored that it was ever there because it was weird…

Alfred jogged over, waving a cheery hello and stopping directly in front of Kiku. They were nearly toe to toe. Kiku looked up at him. Their eyes locked for a single second. It took a fraction of that for Alfred’s heart to stutter in his chest. Must’ve been the hamburgers. They were probably bad for heart health or something. But they  _ were _ close together, Alfred became incredibly aware of. One half of him wanted to step back so he could breathe. And the other half wanted to close the remaining distance and breathe in  _ Kiku _ … Wait wha--?

Kiku cleared his throat and took a step back. Jacket, right… “Alfred?” he asked. “Is something wrong?” Alfred answered back immediately; probably too fast. 

“Wrong? Nah. Just take me to your place, dude. I’ve been waiting all day for this.” Okay, so the last part had been a little unplanned. Kiku nodded, avoiding eye contact, and turned abruptly to lead the way. 

Alfred followed close behind him with his hands in his jacket pockets. The silence between them was killing him. “Soo…” Alfred started, drawing out the word. “Any girls you got your eyes on?” He blurted. Why did he say that? Kiku shifted a little, hunching his shoulders some as he hooked his thumbs into his jean pockets. 

“No… Do you?” he replied slowly, carefully. Alfred tilted his head, thinking.  _ Did _ he? He hadn’t really thought about it… He just kind of laughed along with Artie’s buddies talking about the pretty chicks. He’d honestly thought Yao was a chick when they’d first met, but that didn’t count. There were always Ivan’s sisters… Meh; if they were anything like the looming Russian, Al personally wanted nothing to do with them. He found himself shaking his head. 

“Nope,” he answered, popping the ‘p’. Silence. The sound of the scuff of their boots as they walked in sync down the road. The sound of car engines in the distance. “So…” he tried again. “How does Gilbert Beilschmidt know you?” Kiku cast a questioning sideways glance in his direction.

“Gilbert? Why do you ask?” A good question, actually. Alfred shrugged. 

“He told me where to find you the other day…”

“Gilbert is the brother of my friend Ludwig,” Kiku revealed after a moment.

“YOU’RE TELLING ME THAT GILBERT BEILSCHMIDT IS DIRECTLY RELATED TO LARGE, MUSCLE-Y, BLOND?”

“Um… Yes…?” Kiku slowed to a halt. “We’re here,” he announced, turning to walk down the cracked sidewalk leading up to one of the houses. Alfred was right behind him. He felt like some sort of totally awesome secret agent and his mission was going perfectly according to plan. He was infiltrating the suspect’s headquarters with his ulterior motives remaining buried in secret... What was the objective again? 

Jacket. Right. 

Kiku snagged a key out from under a bonsai tree in a pot on the porch, looking at Alfred over his shoulder as he unlocked the door. He held it open for him. Aww, how chivalrous. Al peeked in, slow and curious. As if the interior designing would give him further clues to unlocking the mysteries of Honda Kiku.

The Japanese man in question didn’t say a word as he disappeared down one of the hallways with Alfred trailing behind him like a puppy. Ah, Kiku’s bedroom. Nothing-- what did Artie say?--  _ untoward _ going on. Nuh-uh. Just two buds hanging out. Two totally slick greasers being rebellious as always. Arthur would be proud if the rebellion wasn’t against him and his posse… That Alfred may or may not be part of…? Whatever. Alfred was getting good at this whole greaser thing and nobody could tell him otherwise because he was totally right. 

Alfred immediately spotted his bomber jacket hung neatly on the doorknob of Kiku’s closet. Thoughtful. Neat. Tidy. Good on him. Arthur would approve. If, you know, they weren’t rivals or anything. Did that make Alfred one of Arthur’s rivals by associating with the enemy? Traitor? Nah. Double agent, maybe. Completely different concepts. Either way, Arthur didn’t know and therefore Alfred was even more fantastic of a secret agent than he had previously thought. Rad. “Hey, thanks, dude!” Alfred said, spinning around to face the smaller man with a huge smile. 

“You’re welcome, I suppose… I don’t know why  _ you’re _ thanking  _ me _ , though. You’re the one who let me borrow it in the first place,” Kiku pointed out. Alfred shrugged, humble as ever.

“Yeah, well, I’m just heroic like that…” he stated proudly. Kiku didn’t respond to that. 

“If that is all that you needed--”

“WOAH ARE THOSE  _ COMIC BOOKS _ ?!” Alfred spotted the stack on his desk in the corner. He was hovering over them before Kiku could get a word in. “Dude! Have you been holding out on me or  _ what _ ?!” he said in excitement, snatching up a few to flip through them. “They’re quite a bit thicker than mine; they’re freaking novels… Aaaand not in English…” Alfred observed. 

“Actually, Alfred-san, they’re called manga and they’re from Japan, so…” Kiku explained, hiding a smile at Alfred’s enthusiasm. “These are just a few that I happened across when browsing… I do have some in English, though, if you’re interested.”

“Dude, are you kidding?! Of  _ course _ I want to read your cool Asian comic books!”

“Manga,” Kiku corrected, allowing his small smile to show. Something about the expression on him had Alfred even more excited. 

“Whatever. HEY! WE SHOULD TOTALLY SWAP SOMETIME! I could bring you some of my comic books and I’ll borrow your foreign comic-novel-things!” Alfred proposed. A truly brilliant idea, if he didn’t say so himself. 

“That sounds… agreeable…” Kiku said, once again reserved at the thought of seeing Al again. 

“Dude. Do you want to or not?”

“Yes…” Kiku finally admitted, smiling at Alfred’s smile over him smiling. Alfred gave a loud whoop of victory for America into the air. 

The perfect plan had really outdone itself. And Alfred couldn’t have been happier. Kiku’s manga books were  _ so cool _ ! Of course, it was really odd to read things  _ backwards _ , but he guessed that the Japanese were just weird like that. Alfred could roll with it. His secret agenting was pretty awesome too. Arthur hadn’t even  _ noticed _ Alfred burrowing away in a burrito of blankets in his room all weekend. 

He ended up showing up at Kiku’s house at 1 in the morning on Sunday begging him for the next volume with McDonalds as consolation for turning up at 1 in the morning. 

And Arthur believed him when he said he’d  _ just _ made a late-night fast food run. The fool. Though, it was possible that he was tired considering it was 1 AM. Francis called out for Alfred to stay safe from Arthur’s room (he stayed over quite a lot-- too worried about the ‘neighborhood’ to exert the effort of going home at night and too preppy a soc to crash on the couch, so he shared a room with Artie, despite the grumbling protests.)  

Alfred, manga and McDonalds clutched in one hand, banged on Kiku’s door until he was considering grabbing the house key from where Kiku had gotten them before. Then, Kiku opened the door a crack, bleary eyed and confused. Until Alfred explained the situation. Kiku chuckled sleepily at him and let him in. 

They lost track of time discussing their respective experiences. Kiku was also really enjoying the comics that Alfred had given him-- a fact that made Alfred’s heart soar--- but had the decency to wait until they would meet again at school to ask for the next edition. Alfred promised to bring it to him in the morning. They shared a milkshake (shared, as in, Kiku got a couple of modest sips and Alfred slurped down the rest). 

It felt good. Absurdly good. Just talking with Kiku about totally awesome things, shoulder to shoulder on his bed with fast food between them...

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, thanks for sticking with this madness so far.


	5. Sleepover

Kiku woke up in the morning unusually warm. That was the first thing he noticed, anyway. The catalyst became blatantly clear not long after that observation, sending a number of colorful Japanese expletives zipping through his mind as it fumbled for a set of instructions that would be a proper response to the situation. 

He sat slumped against the wall on his bed with his sleeping clothes on, a ridiculously loud snoring Alfred F. Jones sprawled out belly down in his street clothes half on top of him. Kiku, personally, had never known anyone that could nod off talking excitably about manga, but then he had met Alfred. 

Every last bit of everything was insane in Kiku’s world. His life had been relatively normal with just Ludwig and Feliciano as his friends. Where there were friends, there were sure to be enemies as well. The lines were simple, defined, black and white. It only seemed natural that nearly receiving a concussion from a man labelled ‘enemy’ would only make everything all the more clearer, but that was anything  _ but  _ the case-- because that man had been Alfred F. Jones. Alfred Jones-- the person he had loaned manga to and been introduced to comic books by. The person who showed up in the middle of the night to talk about one of the subjects that Kiku loved most with such enthusiasm. Every second spent with him, watching his mannerisms, and listening to him, Kiku felt like he was digging himself deeper and deeper into some kind of rut that he wasn’t entirely sure he was anxious to escape from, despite the fact that he knew he  _ should _ . Alfred F. Jones-- the loud, bespectacled American with that silly strip of hair that never fell flat that was now drooling on Kiku’s bedsheets. 

Kiku should wake him up; he was sure to get in trouble for sneaking out in the night. It would be best for him to return home before the Sun had arisen-- which it hadn’t yet. Kiku also wanted to run his hands through that mussed up head of hair and snuggle down into his warmth and--... He stopped that train of thought right there. It was insane, after all. Alfred was insane. With thoughts like that, well, Kiku was insane too. 

Now that that was straightened out…

Kiku gently shook Alfred’s shoulder. Alfred’s snore cut off in a snort and he mumbled something unintelligible, shifting around, his arm/shoulder that was pinning Kiku under him wrapping around Kiku and cuddling him closer as he nuzzled into Kiku’s shoulder. It was a wonder his glasses didn’t break. Kiku blushed so hard he worried about a potential oncoming nosebleed. Surely his pounding heart rate would wake Alfred up… It didn’t, however, and Kiku sat frozen, internally screaming, as Alfred held him in his sleep. 

Half of Kiku wanted to follow Alfred’s lead and sleep away the day in the coziness of it all, he  _ was _ exhausted, after all. The other half wanted to shank that thought with a katana. 

Kiku shook him again, more insistent this time. No reaction. Alfred was a heavy sleeper. Kiku was considering just rolling him off the bed altogether when a ruckus made his blood run cold. The sound of more than one pairs of stomping boots on the porch.  _ Oh no _ . Kiku had completely forgot about his training session at the gym with Ludwig, Gilbert, and Feliciano. “Alfred,” Kiku hissed. They didn’t have much time, but maybe he could still sneak the American out the back door if they hurried… 

The click of the lock on the front door reminded Kiku that he  _ really _ needed to find a new place to hide the key. Boots slamming against the hardwood floor as the last person he wanted to see the current scene sprinted through Kiku’s house. A squeak and a loud German curse of said person almost slipping and falling. The door being thrown open, slamming against the wall.  “GUTEN MORGEN, KIKUUUU! IT IS THE AWESOME ME! WE HAVE COME TO TAKE YOU TO-- oh? ” Gilbert Beilschmidt yelled at them.

A couple things happened all at once. Gilbert and Kiku stared at each other, the Prussian’s eyes moving between Alfred and him a few times as he took it in. Alfred woke up with a raspy little ‘mm?’ that Kiku would have to dwell on at a later date, for he was in quite the predicament at the moment. Squeezing his eyes closed for a second, cursing everything as he clamped a hand over Alfred’s mouth to keep him from talking. Slowly, Kiku looked up at the pale interloper. Gilbert had developed a concerningly large, nasty grin.  _ Why must this happen to me? _ Kiku mentally groaned in utter defeat. Gilbert leaned against the doorframe. “Well, well well… I take it that you’re in no position to be coming with us to the gym, eh?” Slowly, Kiku shook his head no in answer, too shocked that Gilbert hadn’t immediately called the others in to come see to speak. “Alright-y then,” Gilbert acknowledged with a knowing wink at Kiku before turning and closing the door gently behind him. “HEY, GUYS! YOU WON’T BELIEVE THIS! KIKU HAD TOO MUCH SAKI LAST NIGHT AND CAN’T COME!” Gilbert shouted at the others as he walked away. There was unhappy grumbling from Ludwig and there was a shout of ‘ _ get well soon! _ ’ from Feliciano… And then… They were gone. 

Kiku slowly released a breath. He owed the Prussian so, so much. 

He then remembered that he had a hand over a now very much awake Alfred’s mouth. Kiku dared a glance downward. Baby blue eyes shone jovially up at him and Kiku could  _ feel _ his lips stretch into a smile. It was all of a sudden very stuffy in the room and incredibly hard to swallow. He removed his hand a little too fast to be casual. Alfred barrel-rolled off of him, crinkling the empty McDonalds bag and further spreading the crumbs already strewn across the bed. Alfred laughed as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes with the heel of his hand. “Ah, that’s one way to be woken up. G’mornin’, by the way…” he mumbled. Kiku just nodded. To put it simply, he wanted nothing more than to melt into the bed then and there. “So… on a scale of one to doomsday, how much trouble are you in?” Alfred asked with a little wince. The unspoken ‘ _ because of me _ ’ hung in the air between them. Kiku shook his head, wondering that himself. 

“Gilbert covered for us… Ludwig and Feliciano don’t even know you’re here. That is not to say, however, that the entire populace of the school won’t know one version of the story or another by Monday…” Kiku evaluated carefully. 

“Nah, if Gil was gonna do that, he wouldn’t’ve covered for us,” Alfred reasoned, surprisingly, with a good point. “That was so cool of him, though! I definitely owe him one. Sorry about that, by the way, Kiku…” he awkwardly apologized, rubbing his neck in embarrassment. The way he said Kiku’s name made the Japanese man’s ears burn to a degree that the prospect of melting no longer seemed such an improbable thought. Then there was the matter of how sheepish he looked as he said that little apology. Alfred F. Jones. Embarrassed. It was a sight that Kiku never dreamed of seeing. The man was too brash, too shameless, and yet there he was. 

“You’re probably right,” Kiku agreed. “There’s really no need to apologize, though. I enjoyed our chat,” he admitted, face  _ burning _ . He felt as if he had divulged some deeply buried secret, though he had hardly said anything at all… No, he had said  _ plenty _ . 

“Aw, sweet!” Alfred rejoiced, leaning back and releasing a breath. Then, he paled. “Oh  _ no _ … Kiku, what time is it?” he asked, tensed and ready to spring into action. 

“Alfred, you have a watch,” Kiku reminded him. 

“Ah! Right. Thanks, dude-- ACK! BY UNCLE SAM’S HAT!” He jumped up, shrugging on his jacket, snatching up his copy of manga, and balling up the greasy paper McDonald’s sack in quick succession. “Gotta go! Artie’ll have my hide for this!” he went to wave a hasty goodbye, but then stopped himself as if remembering something. “Hey, do you have a phone?” he asked suddenly. Kiku blinked.

“Yes,” he answered simply, taken more by surprise by the question than he probably should have. 

“Great!” He cleared his throat. “Can I, uh, have your number? So I won’t have to walk all the way here next time I wanna talk comics,” he released a short bark of a laugh at Kiku’s pointed gaze. “-- and manga,” he finished with a toothy half-grin. Kiku flushed as he unsuccessfully swallowed a smile. He looked away.

“Hai. Of course. Do you have a piece of paper?” he inquired. Alfred patted his pockets before triumphantly fishing out a crumpled McDonald’s receipt and holding it out to Kiku to take, which he did. Their hands brushed for a millisecond. Nothing truly worth noting, but there was something about it when it came to  _ Alfred _ that sent a sharp  _ zing _ from the point straight into his heart like an arrow. Kiku was almost positive Alfred didn’t even notice. 

He turned around sharply, grasping for a writing utensil, and pretending that he couldn’t  _ feel _ Alfred’s electric, warm presence leaning over his shoulder  _ almost _ but not quite touching him. He scribbled down the number to the house phone in what he hoped was legible writing and gave it to Alfred. “Thanks! I’ll give you a ring!” Alfred assured him, miming a phone with his hand for emphasis. “See ya later, Kikuuu!” he said, going in for what would have been a big bear hug… Would have been… He froze in his tracks when Kiku made an involuntary, strangled sort of noise in the back of his throat and shirked away from the physical contact. The look on Alfred’s face appeared as if Kiku had slapped him. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry… I… I don’t like… Ahem, I prefer not to be touched. It’s nothing you did; a personal preference…” Kiku quietly stated, wincing, not able to look him in the eyes. “I apologize…” Alfred unfroze then.

“It’s cool, man! Glad you told me! I’ll remember that next time! Later!” and then he was gone, barrelling out of the house leaving behind a void of emptiness where it felt he  _ should _ be. Kiku breathed, running a hand through his hair, berating himself. 


	6. Coming Home

Alfred jogged the whole way home, praying with all his might that he would get home before Arthur woke up. His house came into sight.  _ Surely _ he’d be able to victoriously slide into home base without incident… 

But no.

Arthur was standing on the porch, looking out at the world with his usual stuffy grumpiness. Alfred’s heart dropped to his stomach. Ah, he was a  _ greaser _ now, though. Maybe Arthur would let him off the hook easy for it…? His feeble hopes dissipated as Arthur’s eyes drifted over in the direction of his pounding feet. Stupid boots. Too loud. Artie, with one final sharp exhale, puffing out smoke, ground his cigarette under his shoe… and headed straight for Alfred with murder in his green eyes. Arthur, fists curled at his sides, stomped right up to Al. “AND JUST WHERE THE BLOODY ‘ELL HAVE YOU BEEN?” he shouted, stretching up as much as he could without getting on tiptoes to get in Alfred’s face. 

“Woah, calm down, Artie! I was just out!” Al held up his hands innocently. 

“ _ ‘Out _ ’! The nerve! OUT WHERE?!”

“Dude, you could  _ really  _ use a breath mint.”

“And you could use a  _ really _ good excuse right about now, Alfred F. Jones.” He crossed his arms, leaning back and arching one of his incomparably thick eyebrows. “Where were you?” he asked, calm, for the moment. 

“I went and got some Mickey D’s. I told you this before I left, bro!” Alfred protested. 

“You don’t spend an entire night at a fast food restaurant, Alfie! Where. Did. You. Go?”

“I fell asleep! I didn’t  _ mean _ to! And nobody woke me up till this morning! Sorry!” It wasn’t a  _ complete _ lie. Half-truths are better than no-truths, right? Arthur released an unsatisfied sigh, staring at Alfred for a second or five more distrustfully before standing down. 

“Get in the house, Alfred…” he grumbled. Alfred was all too willing to obey. 

He had been feeling pretty good. He’d thought he was home free now that he was past the Wicked Witch, but that was not the case, which he realized the moment he threw open the door and was assaulted by the smells of cooking.  _ Good _ cooking… Alfred tried to sneak unseen to his room, but apparently he wasn’t  _ quite _ a good enough secret agent to slink past Francis Bonnefoy. “Ah! Welcome home,  _ mon ami _ ! Come, come! You must be hungry after your midnight adventures,” the Frenchman called, poking his head out from the kitchen. Alfred cursed his lack of willpower when it came to Francis’ cooking as he reluctantly followed his nose.

Francis whisked a freshly-cooked omelette with a side of strawberries and glass of orange juice in front of him at the table, politely sliding off Al’s jacket from his shoulders, before sitting down across from him. Francis watched Alfred stuff his face over his laced fingers. A dramatic sigh made Al look up. Francis looked much like he usually did. His long, blond hair was up in a ponytail to keep it out of his lightly stubbled face. He was in his usual fashionable clothing, wearing an apron insisting that one ‘ _ Kiss the cook _ ’ in fancy cursive writing to protect it from the stains of food preparation. Alfred, cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk with a masterfully prepared breakfast, grunted in question. “Do forgive me, Alfred. I simply cannot take this anymore! You must tell me: was it an enjoyable night?” he asked, a smile tugging up the corners of his mouth mischievously. Alfred swallowed, carefully considering his word choice. 

“... Yes…?” It came out as a question, but it was plenty enough for Francis, apparently, because he dissolved into chuckles.

“Honhonhon! No need to be embarrassed, _mon_ _cheri_! Talk to Big Brother Francis! Details, details!” Alfred stared at him. Francis waited expectantly for a bit. Alfred continued to stare at him. Francis was grinning now. “Was she, ah, good?” Alfred choked on his bite of omelette. 

“W- _ What _ ?!” he managed to splutter. Francis shrugged nonchalantly. 

“Did she give you a good time, Alfred dear?” Alfred wasn’t sure what to say to that. Of course Francis would automatically come to such a conclusion; he was French, after all. 

“I… No? I don’t know. Francis--”

“Your first time?”

“ _ Francis _ !”

“Yes?”

“There was no girl! It was nothing! Nothing happened! I went and got McDonalds. I accidentally fell asleep!” Alfred desperately tried to tell him. Francis raised an eyebrow.

“And… That is it?” he questioned lightly. Alfred cleared his throat.

“Mhmm… Yes. Yeah. That’s it,” he confirmed. Francis leaned back thoughtfully. 

“Interesting,” he commented, getting up from his chair. Alfred made the mistake of letting himself relax slightly. “Alfred, you can talk to me about anything, you know that right?” Francis asked as he started to wash the dishes behind him. Alfred hummed in affirmative. “All you have to do is ask if you don’t want me to tell Arthur, of course… I’m renowned for offering sound love advice…”

“Thanks for the offer, Francis, but that won’t be necessary,” Alfred assured him. 

“Of course…” There was a smile to the words. “But nevertheless…”

“I’m not in a relationship, Francis.”

“Mhmm. Whatever you say,  _ mon ami _ .” Alfred heard Francis walk up behind him. “I am curious, though, as to what the person on the other end of the line would say about that if I were to call this number you felt important enough to keep,” he murmured in Alfred’s ear. The American shot up out of his chair to face the knowingly smiling soc. He held out a wrinkly receipt for Alfred to take between two fingers. Alfred, cheeks burning, snatched it away. There was no way to explain what the number  _ actually _ was. 

“You took this out of my pocket!” he accused instead. Francis shrugged nonchalantly before sashaying back over the sink to get to work on the dishes once more, humming a lively tune. 

Alfred shut himself up in his room before taking out the piece of paper and smoothing it out, staring down at it for a long while before gently folding it back up to put in his pocket. 

 

He spent quite a bit of time being in his room, engrossed in Kiku’s manga, and putting off his research paper for school in favor of calling up Kiku to talk about it… for hours… Their topics wandered from the comics and the manga after a while. They talked about school, about food, about family, friends, a little about the past, and everything in between. Alfred told Kiku about how angry Arthur had been and how he was too short to properly get up in his face. Kiku told him about Ludwig calling to lecture him about the dangers of drinking. Alfred told him about Francis finding the number and assuming something was up. They both laughed it off, but the mood had changed. The call ended shortly after that. 

It wasn’t until the next day showering before school when he couldn’t think of anything but how excited he was to maybe see Kiku again, that Alfred came to the realization that something was amiss. When he came to the realization that it was not, in fact, the burgers causing all of this weirdness lately. When he realized that the cause was  _ Kiku _ … 

Kiku. 

It was all Kiku. 

Alfred came to the realization that Francis had actually been onto something the other day when he found, guess whose,  _ Kiku’s _ phone number in his pocket…

Alfred  _ really _ needed to get a girlfriend. 

 

And he shared his concerns with Matthew and Gilbert that day at school. Just as Matthew was going to try comforting Alfred, Gilbert spoke up. “Hey, Alfred! What if I said I could help you with your little problem here?” Alfred straightened up from his slump immediately. 

“Dude, that’d be so totally awesome!”

“Well, as we all know, I  _ am _ awesome, so I can make this work. What if I were to… set up a thing this Friday? We could have a… sort of double-date at a nice cafe or something cheesy romantic like that, yeah? I bring you your new lover and you bring flowers and affection. Matthew and I will be there too and I guarantee you a rescue should this whole arrangement take a turn for the worst,” Gilbert proposed. It was a wonderful plan. 

“THAT WOULD BE FAB, GIL!” 

“WOULDN’T IT, THOUGH?!” he praised himself. He turned to address Mattie. “ Hey, Birdie, are you up for it? This Friday? Antonio’s Cafe?”

“Uh, sure. It’s not like I would have anything else going on, eh?” Matthew agreed. What a sport. 

“So… It is settled, then?” Gilbert wanted to confirm, looking around at Alfred and Matthew. They both nodded. Gilbert grinned widely. “Perfect.”

 


	7. Date

The rest of the week was a big blur with a shiny, mysterious gleam at the end of it. Alfie had a date. And it was all planned out by Gilbert so it had a guarantee to be awesome. So why was he so hesitant? 

He had hung out and talked with Kiku all that week, the only silver lining out of any of it. Kiku had offered to tutor him, as he was failing math… and English because he never did do that research paper… And he was making great progress, so he finally convinced Kiku to let them take a break. Then, of course, he charmed Kiku into discussing a film adaptation of a comic. So they ended up staying up late watching superhero movies. 

And despite Alfred’s exhaustion at school the next day, he passed his math test. 

And Kiku had made him authentic sushi to celebrate.

And for some reason, throughout all of  _ everything _ , Alfred felt like he didn’t want to bring up his date to Kiku. There was always something that held him back, even though he had long convinced himself he was excited to meet whatever lady Gilbert had deemed worthy. Something that tugged at his heart. Maybe some kind of subconscious kind of thing where his body was used to being able to talk to Kiku whenever he wanted and, at the date, it would be rude to excuse himself to chat with a friend. 

Alfred shoved Kiku out of his mind. This date had nothing to do with him. 

Alfred slid on his nice white button-up shirt and a pair of clean, unripped jeans. He combed his hair and everything (not that it made a whole lot of a difference…). And he was going to call it good at that… but then  _ Artie _ … “Alfred, where are you going  _ now _ ?” Alfred stared back at his big brother like a deer caught in headlights. 

“To lunch…” he replied slower and higher pitched than he had intended. 

“Alfred…”

“Yeah?”

“You’ve made an attempt at dressing up. Who are you meeting at lunch?” Arthur, ever the observant one, asked. Al sighed in defeat. Busted.

“I don’t know, actually. It’s a blind date. Matthew’ll be there. I think he might have helped set it up,” he answered. Arthur nodded, satisfied with the answer. 

“Finally; some truth out of your mouth. I know. Francis told me; he said he got the intel from a friend. Wouldn’t surprise me if that ‘friend’  _ was _ just Matthew after all. He  _ does  _ like to make it seem as though he’s cooler than he actually is,” Arthur snorted, looking up with a superior smirk at the thought of the long-haired Frenchman. Then, his eyes settled again on Alfred and his upper lip curled in mildly veiled distaste. “You’re wearing that? On a date?” Alfred, offended, looked down at his clothing choice. He was looking pretty good. 

“What’s wrong with this?” he questioned, honestly not understanding Arthur. Nothing new. Arthur scoffed.

“‘What’s wrong’, you say! Look at your hair! Your shoes! You won’t stand a chance of impressing a proper lady with your dirty sneakers. And at  _ least _ look like you gave an effort with your  _ shirt _ ! It’s all wrinkled!” he whined, waving to each offending point in turn before cutting himself off with a positively  _ ruffled _ sigh as he tried to build up his composition once more. “Come with me…”

About half an hour later, Alfred was sporting pretentiously gelled-back hair, a black bowtie fastened around his neck, a shiny pair of polished black dress shoes, and a freshly-ironed shirt. And he was feeling pretty good about it. Arthur, the old coot, probably had more experience with women and what doesn’t work with them than Alfred did. Probably. Maybe. Hopefully.  _ Surely _ at  _ some point _ in his life he scraped up at least a  _ smidge _ of knowledge on the topic of chicks.  

Either way, Alfred called a cheery goodbye to the Brit that was busy brewing some tea in the kitchen and then raced out the door… Only to be stopped. Again. And this time by Francis who looked like he’d been running to catch him. “Alfred! Alfred, oh thank goodness I’ve caught you!” he gasped as he came to a halt in front of him. Then, he straightened with a weird look on his face, taking him in. “What on Earth did Artie do to you?” Of course. He probably had ‘old crusty British man’ stamped all over him. Francis let out a sigh. “It truly  _ is  _ a miracle that I’ve managed to catch you before you approach your date looking like  _ that _ …” Without further ado, Francis pulled Alfred close, pulled out a comb that he happened to have on him, and fixed his hair to at least a semblance of its usual style. “What impression are you trying to make? ‘Look at me, I am a nerd who will choose schoolwork over love’?  _ Non,  _ lose the bowtie,  _ I beg of you _ .” Alfred obeyed. Neckwear was totally overrated anyways. “And unbutton this a little! What are you? A prude?!” And then Francis proceeded to unbutton the shirt for him. Down to just above his belly button… Um…?

“Well, he’s not a  _ prostitute _ either!  _ Good Lord _ , Francis! What are you doing to the boy?!” Arthur had come outside to drink his tea and probably smoke. And was now stomping over to take the situation  _ out _ of Francis’ hands. “Alfred, button your shirt. Frog, get off my property,” Arthur stated, pointing to each of them in turn. 

“Ah, but  _ mon cher _ !” Francis started to protest. 

“One more word from you and I will pluck out your excuse of a beard a hair at a time!” Arthur growled, making Francis chortle at him as if he were an amusing puppy. Their definition of friendship was interesting, but there it was. Alfred hastily buttoned his shirt, leaving the top few open to at least take  _ some _ of Francis’ advice; he  _ was _ French, after all. Francis waved Arthur off and turned to Al again, digging a few folded dollars out of his jacket pocket. 

“Here, at least take this. Buy her some roses.  _ Red _ roses. She will  _ love _ it, no?” Francis suggested with a sincere smile. 

“Hey, thanks, dude!” 

“ _ Not _ so fast… Take this as well. What sort of man lets the lady pay for her meal?” Arthur added, giving him another wad of cash-- the leftovers of which he would very likely  _ not _ be getting back. 

“Will do!” he grinned happily. Arthur and Francis were staring each other down. Arthur was glaring grumpily. Francis looked somewhat touched with his ‘ _ aw, look at you! _ ’ smile. Alfred cleared his throat uncomfortably, looking between the two of them. They ignored him. Alright-y then. Next stop:  _ Antonio’s Cafe _ .

Alfred had never been to the restaurant before. ‘ _ Antonio’s _ ’... Must be Mexican or something. Anyway, he showed up at the smallish building with a fresh dozen red rose blossoms clutched in one sweaty palm in record time. The first-date butterflies were starting to catch up with him at about this point. What if he didn’t like her? What if she didn’t like him? What if-- “HEEY! SO GLAD YOU’RE HERE! COME ON, YOUR DATE WILL BE HERE ANY MINUTE!” Ah. Gilbert. Right. Gil was there. He’d planned it out. Matthew was there. He might have helped. Everything would be  _ fine _ . There was no reason to  _ worry _ ! Gilbert ushered him forward, patting him on the back. “Aww! Look at you! And  _ roses _ ! You hopeless romantic, you!” Gilbert gushed, flinging open the doors. 

“Welcome to Antoni--” droned a bitter voice that cut off when he saw them. “And just what the hell are  _ you _ doing here, you bastard?!” snapped a person that looked  _ very much _ like Feliciano. Gilbert cackled down at him. 

“ _ Excuse me _ , I was  _ invited _ here by a good friend of mine!” he informed the brunet waiter. Feliciano’s unhappy clone groaned loudly, spinning on his heel to shout in the direction of the kitchen.

“OI! ANTONIO! WHAT DID YOU DO THIS TIME?”

“What’s that, Lovi?” asked a much happier-sounding man who poked his head out to see what was amiss. The cook guy gasped excitedly and bounded out to greet them much more hospitably. “GIIIL!” he cheered before tackling the albino in a hug. Gilbert chuckled, patting his friend on the back. 

“It’s good to see you, Antonio!” the Prussian reciprocated. “Ah, this is who I’ve told you about: Matthew,” Gilbert introduced, gesturing to the person in question. Oh. Al didn’t even see him. He waved hello too. “And this is Matthew’s basically-brother: Alfred. I’ve set up a date for him today. Given that he isn’t the awesome me, you might want to wish him luck. You  _ know _ , first dates and all.” Antonio and Gilbert chortled at Alfred goodnaturedly. 

“ _ Si, si _ ! Nice to meet you! All of you! I hope Lovino wasn’t too harsh on you… Now! Is there anywhere in particular you’d like me to seat you?” he offered. 

“Hey! I thought that was  _ my  _ job!” Lovino protested. 

“Oh, don’t take it too personal, Lovi,” Antonio hushed with a wave of his hand. 

“Booths, please. Somewhere I can see the two lovebirds, but across the restaurant so we don’t have to deal with them,” Gilbert requested. Antonio nodded, showing them to their separate tables. Gilbert seemed glued to the windows. 

“THE DATE HAS ARRIVED!” he announced, shooting up out of his chair. “MATTIE! JUST AS WE REHEARSED! I want you both to get your first view of each other at the same time! NO PEEKSIES, ALFRED F. JONES!” Gil instructed before dashing out the door to intercept Al’s date. Matthew walked up to Alfred, who was gripping onto the flowers like a lifeline. 

“Hey, Al. Um, could you, uh, turn around?” he laughed softly as Alfred tentatively obeyed. “Sorry, it’s all a bit weird, eh? But, hey, the way Gilbert talks about it, it sounds like you’ll have a great time,” he offered Al a smile. Al slowly returned it. He was really getting too worked up about all this. Probably. He hadn’t actually ever been on a date before… but that didn’t matter. What mattered was that Gilbert had set him up with a nice girl who was probably just as nervous as he was. Right?

A bell tinkled as the door opened. 

_ Nope _ . Alfred felt like he was going to faint. Wait no. He was  _ Alfred F. Jones _ . He totally had this… Gilbert was counting down. “Alright… 3,” Al took a deep breath in. Calm the nerves for the sake of first impressions. “2,” the smile was obvious in Gilbert’s voice. Alfred hurriedly wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans. “1.” Alfred turned around.

At the same time that Gilbert removed his hands from the pair of eyes he was shielding. 

All of the air left Alfred’s lungs in a rush. Because he  _ knew _ those eyes. Oh. His mind was torn between adding a ‘no’ or a ‘ _ yes _ ’ at the end of that. Just…. Oh. 

_ Kiku _ . 

 

Alfred remembered to breathe. His first reaction was one of unexplainable relief that caused a dorky smile to stretch across his face. The second was when he caught up with reality and that his first reaction hadn’t been the proper one, given the circumstances. He wheeled around to face Gilbert, who had been the puppeteer for this whole show. Simply  _ ridiculous _ ! A  _ date  _ with  _ Kiku _ ?! Kiku was a  _ guy _ ! Alfred had been expecting Gil to show up with a pretty lady. And he had been given Kiku.  _ Why had he ever agreed to this _ ?

That was… a good question… 

That he would explore  _ later _ because there was a certain Prussian that Alfred wanted to give a piece of his mind, and he was  _ sure  _ that Kiku felt the same. But Gilbert and Matthew were over at their own table giggling at them behind menus. And Kiku didn’t look mad; just shocked. Might as well not fall into their trap. Getting angry at the prank would be  _ exactly _ what Gilbert wanted and expected. Well, Alfred decided then and there that he wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. 

He offered Kiku a smile. “Well isn’t this an interesting turn of events?” he laughed. “Did you know about this?” he asked, genuinely curious. Kiku composed himself. 

“I had no idea… Gilbert told me that I had a secret admirer who had requested a date…?” Kiku answered, his voice tilting up in question at the end. 

“ _ I _ was told I was going to be set up on a blind date with someone I’d like a  _ lot _ ,” Alfred informed his ‘date’. “Brought flowers and everything!” he waved them in front of Kiku’s face as if it were the most ridiculous concept known to mankind. Kiku let a smile slip as he looked down at the ground. 

“I actually brought chocolates…”

“NO WAY, DUDE!” Alfred gasped. “WHAT KIND?!” In reply, Kiku showed him the glossy red box labelled as, get this,  _ gourmet chocolates _ . Alfred let out a low whistle. “Classy, Kiku! We should totally split them! Can’t let something like that go to waste!”

“Of course,” Kiku agreed with a nod. 

“Ugh. I  _ am _ hungry, though… Hey, Artie gave me money! Because, ya know, I was supposed to be paying for a date… Lunch?” 

 

“No, I’m  _ serious _ ! You should have seen me before I left home!” Alfred gasped through his fit of laughter. The empty plates of food sat forgotten and pushed to the side, an open box of chocolates in their place. 

“ _ Both _ of them tried to dress you up?” Kiku was giggling too; something that made Alfred feel giddy and irrationally proud for making him laugh. He was usually so quiet. He didn’t walk around with a smile plastered to his face like Alfred did. But when Kiku  _ did _ smile… and when he  _ laughed _ … Oh, it was the best thing in the world to Alfred. 

“No joke! Artie had me in a bowtie with gelled back hair!” Kiku’s laughter intensified, though he was trying to smother it behind a hand. Al grinned hugely. He simply  _ couldn’t _ allow for that to happen. “But, then, I went outside, going on my way. Minding my own business. And then Francis, who, as I’ve mentioned before, is a  _ soc _ …” Alfred coughed on his own laughter at the memories. “The guy all but jumped me! He helped try to fix my hair, so there’s that, but…” he giggled, finding it hard to get the words out. A totally greaser-worthy giggle. A giggle that in no way decreased Alfred’s manlitude. It was the manliest giggle ever to grace the U.S of A. Or the  _ galaxy _ for that matter.  _ Not _ that he would want to duke it out with some manly, giggling aliens, but there you have it. “He said I looked like a prude, which I’d have to disagree. I looked like a nerdy old-timer! So, what he suggested was… He said I should unbutton my shirt a bit; that chicks love that. And he helped me out with that. He had my shirt unbuttoned almost down to my jeans, dude!” Kiku, who had managed to compose himself, still red from laughing like that, melted into chuckles he failed to keep quiet and contained. “Oh, and then Artie came outside with his stupid tea and I swear his eyes almost jumped out of their sockets when he saw me! He and Francis were bickering back and forth over me and it was the weirdest thing! I just wanted to go on my date and neither of them were really helping me a whole awful lot. “That was about the time when Francis gave me the cash for the flowers and Artie followed his lead and gave me the paper to pay for lunch. Dude, you should’ve been there!”

“I’m sure it would have been a sight worth seeing, Alfred,” Kiku agreed, taking a sip of water. Alfred nodded his head with the enthusiasm of a kindergartener, popping another piece of Kiku’s chocolate in his mouth. He groaned in appreciation of the rich, heavenly goodness. 

“Ugh, Kiku. I’ll give you this: you know how to pick out some chocolate. Any girl would be  _ lucky _ to have a guy like you!” His own words stirred something in his heart. After safely convincing himself that it was just the chocolate-induced euphoria at work, he continued. “I know if I were a girl, it’d have  _ me _ swooning.” He grinned a toothy grin, shooting Kiku a wink that was so smooth it would make Francis proud. Kiku met his eyes then, causing an effect that felt as if a fist had squeezed Alfred’s heart. The goofy smile fell from Al’s face into a more curious look. Something was nagging at the back of his mind. Begging for him to notice it. To put a name to it. But he couldn’t, even though he felt it so close he could almost  _ taste _ it…

He didn’t realize that he was staring… and that he hadn’t been the only one… until Kiku looked away. Alfred blinked. He felt like he’d been pulled out a trance. It was all  _ off _ . And he was about 97.4% sure that it had to do with that little yet-to-be-identified nagging feeling. It didn’t matter. He was having a good time. He should just stop being weird and enjoy it. He stuffed another piece of chocolate into his mouth to occupy himself. 

Being the chivalrous man that Artie had raised, Alfred swiped up yet another and offered it to Kiku. Kiku snapped out if his internal reverie to politely take it with a murmured thanks. Alfred watched as Kiku’s face lit up in pleasant surprise at the taste. He clapped in delight, snatching up one more and leaning precariously across the table to shove it at the Jap’s face. Kiku sighed and gave him a ‘ _ Really? _ ’ look, but played along, taking it delicately between his teeth from Al’s fingers. 

He was staring again.

And he may or may not have forgotten that he needed to breathe. 

He was really pretty close to Kiku now. 

And neither of them were looking away this time. 

Breathing, right. Breathing was important. 

Alfred shifted slightly on the hand that he was supporting himself over the table with, which he quickly found was a mistake. In one flurry of disorientation, the table flipped under his unbalanced weight. It came up to smack Alfred straight in the face, silverware, dishes, vase of roses (the vase had been courteously supplied by Antonio), and chocolates came crashing to the floor. Alfred going along with it. 

The American gaped up at Kiku, who was still safely perched in his seat, still working on comprehending what had just happened. Kiku blinked down at him, the ghost of a smile touching his mouth. “Very smooth, Alfred,” he commented. 

“Thanks,” Alfred grinned up at him before dragging himself up off the floor, tortilla chips and water droplets that had once been in his glass cascading down his front as he did. It was really not a pretty mess. And he wasn’t the only one who had made that observation. Lovino came stomping over angry and red in the face, shouting at him in some language… Mexican? As he went. “I think that’s our cue to go, Kiku!” Alfred informed his friend, digging out the needed cash and nice tip out of his pocket and dropping it on top of the mess before he beat feet getting out of there. 

Kiku dragged behind some to try to get an apology in on his behalf, not that Lovino seemed to care much. They made their getaway to the sound of Gilbert hollering after them to ‘have fun’ and ‘use protection’. 

Once a safe distance-- approximately a block-- away, Alfred doubled over to let out a breathless laugh. That was  _ nuts _ . All of it, from the initial prank to the weird feelings to the quick exit. Absolutely insane. His eyes wandered over to Kiku who Alfred was for some reason surprised had no trouble keeping up with him as he ran. His heartbeat jumped into his throat when he saw him. 

His black hair was windblown from the running and, before, Alfred hadn’t really noticed his outfit, but he did then: a simple, worn but nice tan t-shirt advertising something in Japanese that fit to his lean frame just as well as his dark jeans did. He smelled lightly of a cologne. And… 

Kiku had picked up the roses before he had left. They were slightly bent and smashed from being crushed by a table, but Kiku had thought to grab them, despite the joke that they were. Alfred hadn’t even taken the time to salvage the chocolates through the wreckage. 

Alfred felt the overwhelming urge to reach out to him, but he didn’t. Kiku didn’t like to be touched, after all. And why would Alfred want to anyway? But he did. That much at least was undeniable. That nagging feeling was back and more insistent than ever. “Aw. I didn’t get the chocolate…” Alfred managed to make his voice sound halfway normal. Conversational. Just two friends talking.  Why did he even have to reassure himself of this? Kiku waved it off. 

“It’s alright... “ He didn’t make a comment about the flowers. Kiku offered him a small, hesitant smile. “I’ll have to introduce you to pocky sticks.”

“Ooh! Wassat?”

“Walk me home and I’ll show you…” Kiku nudged him gently with his elbow. “You  _ are _ supposed to be my, ah, secret admirer, was it?” Alfred laughed a little too hard a little too fast. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever floats your boat, dude.”

 

Back at Kiku’s place, Alfred leaned back against his friend’s kitchen counter, watching him casually. Kiku placed the flowers in a vase with water before turning to dig in his pantry, as promised. Alfred found himself blushing, looking away from his friend’s bent over shape. What was wrong with him? It didn’t take long for Kiku to straighten again, triumphantly hoisting a package of… something. Without further explanation or ado, Kiku pulled one out. It looked like an edible incense stick-- some kind of cookie or cracker material dipped in chocolate. 

It was the chocolate that sold Alfred on giving it a try. 

And he did, tentatively biting off the end of one as Kiku nibbled on another, watching him expectantly. Suddenly, leaving behind the chocolates didn’t seem like such a heinous crime. “WOAH THESE ARE REALLY GOOD, KIKU.” Kiku smiled.

“I knew you’d like them.” 

“Ya know, I’m actually pretty glad that Gilbert pulled that prank on us. I mean, there isn’t anyone  _ else _ I could imagine wanting a ‘date’ with. I mean, I got some pretty awesome food out of the deal, got to hang out with you, no actual dating involved, and I had a good time…” Alfred blurted. “Um… Can I have another one? Please?” Kiku cleared his throat and offered out the package. 

“By all means. You can have the package, actually. I’ve got some more,” he offered, ignoring the first bit. Bless him.  _ Don’t mind if I do... _ Alfred bit his second one in half with a satisfying snap. Kiku looked at the remaining bit of his own thoughtfully. “You know, there’s a popular game that is played with these in Japan,” he said. 

“Really? Sweet! What do ya do?” Alfred asked, suddenly interested. Games? With pocky stick deliciousness? 

“It’s a game of wills between two players. Both take an end of a pocky stick in their mouth and get closer until one of them pulls away,” Kiku explained. 

“Oh! Like chicken! But with a cookie and chocolate stick!” Alfred summarized excitedly. He was good at games like those! Kiku nodded in confirmation. “Let’s do it!” he exclaimed, fishing out another pocky stick. Oh, he was so going to win! It was going to be fun and awesome and he’d probably get the pocky stick if he won, so  _ bonus _ ! And--

“Do you want to kiss me, Alfred?” Kiku asked, raising an eyebrow at him. Alfred froze, physically and mentally, staring at Kiku. He took a shaky breath as his heart started beating again, thundering in his chest. 

“W-What?” he squeaked. 

“I’m an expert at the pocky game. I can assure you I won’t be the one pulling away. As the objective is to get closer, it will inevitably end in kissing.”  _ Oh _ . A warning; not an invitation. “So, Alfred,  _ do _ you want to kiss me?” Kiku repeated. Alfred forced himself to laugh it off. 

“Haha! Nah, dude,” was what he told his friend. Only… As he realized with growing horror…

_ He was lying through his teeth.  _

Alfred swallowed hard and smiled again. He looked down at his watch and feigned being surprised, which, in his state, wasn’t hard to do. “Ack! Would you look at the time! I gotta go or Artie’ll kill me! He’ll think I’m getting down and dirty with m’ date if I don’t get home…” he tried to explain in a way that wouldn’t be blatantly obvious that that wasn’t the  _ real _ reason he was leaving. Kiku was watching him with a peculiar expression. Alfred tried for a smile, showing him his watch for emphasis as if it would change anything. “See ya later, dude!” he called, already running out the door. 

And he didn’t stop running. The puzzle pieces were snapping together, each one weightier and more suffocating than the previous. The nagging feeling was screaming its congratulations; he’d recognized it. 


	8. Revelations

Alfred managed to slip past Artie with minimal questions. Arthur got the point that he didn’t want to talk about it much, that it was a prank, that it hadn’t gone as planned.

All true.

But not why he was all worked up. 

He didn’t even want to say  _ that _ to  _ himself _ .

But he knew. He knew now what all the weirdness was about; which, unsurprisingly, only led to more, weirder weirdness. 

And so, when Francis showed up, he found Alfred in a state of disarray. Empty pocky package tossed aside, crumbs strewn in a halo around where he sat on his bed hugging a pillow with a blanket wrapped around him, record on the player, and music filling the silence of the room. Alfred didn’t even acknowledge his pretty-much-second-guardian as he floated in to sit neatly on the edge of the bed beside him. 

“I heard things didn’t go quite as you thought they would, but… Elvis?” Francis felt the need to ask, casting his gaze over to the record player. Alfred grunted. He didn’t want to talk. Especially not about his music choice when he was upset. “An interesting choice of song, I must say… A love song?”

“Shuddup. It just plays along with the rest of the record…” he grumbled defensively, even though that wasn’t quite true. Francis patted him on the top of his blanket-covered head. 

“Would you care to tell Papa Francis what is bothering you so?” Alfred grunted in reply. No. No, he wouldn’t. “Come now,  _ mon cheri _ . Love is my expertise, you know. Just talk to me. Getting it off your chest will make for an easier burden to bear. I don’t have to speak a word to Arthur if you don’t want me to.”

“Gilbert,” Alfred rasped. “What has Gilbert told you? You guys are friends.”

“I know only that he was in charge of setting up your date. I didn’t and, if you don’t want me to, I won’t pry for any more than that. It is your business, after all, not mine.”

“Okay… Well… Forget about the date in general for now, okay? There’s this person… It was weird, and I didn’t  _ mean _ to become friends with this person, but I did. And this person, as it turns out, is actually really, really, really cool, alright? And we hang out quite a bit, you know? And, I know we’re just friends, but I’ve noticed that when I’m around this person, I get all  _ weird _ …” Francis was smiling at him. He didn’t like it. “Stop that…” Al grumbled before continuing with his tale of woe. “And as it turns out… today after my ‘date’, if you could call it that... I accidentally tipped a table over… I think I… Well, I’ve realized that… Maybe I… Maybe I kind of  _ like _ this person a little more than originally planned.” Alfred winced. It sounded even more awful out loud than it had in his head. 

“Ah, I understand, Alfred. There’s no need to be ashamed of it! Now, let’s get things clear here, when you say you ‘like’ this person…?” Francis’ words were smooth and calm and even and Alfred was a wreck and he hated it. He was going to make him  _ say it _ ? He groaned like a child in protest. Francis arched an eyebrow. Waiting. Alfred took a deep breath and said it all in one barely comprehensible rush.   

“I think I’ve got a crush…”  _ Ew _ . But there. He’d said it. Aloud. Most of it. What he didn’t mention was--

“Ah, there we are! It is perfectly natural occurrence, Alfred. Which begs the question: what about it is upsetting you?” Francis asked. _ Oh no. _ It was a perfectly logical question, but not one he was completely willing to answer. 

“W-We’re friends. Just friends. I don’t want to… I don’t want to mess everything up…”

“But is it worth keeping your affections all bottled up inside when there’s a possibility they could be requited?” Francis asked. And those words hit  _ hard _ .

“They won’t be! I can’t say anything because they  _ won’t _ be ‘requited’. I shouldn’t even like this person anyway!” Alfred snapped. Francis’ eyes were soft and sad. 

“ _ Mon petit chou _ , why shouldn’t you like this person?”  _ Oh, why did I say that _ …

“I-It doesn’t matter. You wanted to know. Now you know…”

“Alfred…”

“Francis.”

“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me. If there is  _ anyone _ you can talk to about these things, it is me.”

“But you’ll hate me if I tell you,” Alfred said before he could stop himself. Francis tipped his chin up to look up at him with his slender fingers. 

“Now, why would you think that? Alfred, I can assure you, there is very little you could possibly tell me that would make me hate you.” Alfred took a deep breath. Maybe if he said it it would help. And it was  _ Francis _ . He was French. Maybe it would be okay with him… Or maybe not. At least then he would be left alone. No, Francis was basically like a second Arthur to him. Francis was waiting for an answer....

“What if… What if I said that this person I like… Was a… Dude?” Alfred wanted to shrivel up and die like some sort of human raisin. Francis stared at him, quiet, for a long time. 

Then, he started to chuckle. 

Then, he was full-on laughing in hysterics that Alfred had never before seen him in. His pride puffed up. Was it really  _ that _ pathetic? Was his… crush…  _ that _ hilarious that he deserved his basically-second-guardian laughing in his face? Just as Alfred opened his mouth to say something, Francis cut him off. “Alfred, I have seen Arthur naked. Arthur has seen me naked. We have been naked together. You think that I stay over because we are merely friends? Oh,  _ mon chou _ , never have you been more naive!” Alfred didn’t quite comprehend the words that had been said for quite a bit. “I thought you were going to tell me you had fallen for an escaped criminal or something! You had me worried! Well, if  _ that’s _ all you’re worried about--”

“Wait… Y-You and… Artie?”

“ _ Oui _ .”

“How long have y--”

“Longer than you can likely remember. I thought you knew. I admire what a heavy sleeper you are.”

“But… You… Why Artie?”

“A good question. With a very long answer. Ask your brother.”

“How, though?” Alfred was so confused. 

“Well, you see, Alfred. It got to a certain point in our relationship where--”

“ _ NO _ . Not that. How did you two… get together in the first place?”

“Ah. Quite frankly, I thought he hated me, but I knew that it was never  _ quite _ true. I told him of my feelings, and  _ honhon,  _ was he a bashful little soul. And he felt the same way. Simple as that. He still acts as though he hates me, though…  _ Well _ , not  _ always _ , as you can imagine. It’s quite hard to keep up such an act when you have the other gasping your name beneath you--”

“ _ AAND _ that’s plenty enough sharing on your part today, Francis.” Alfred was already traumatized enough. Francis laughed at him softly. 

“Alfred, just tell the boy how you feel. I’m not saying that it is without its risks, but,  _ mon cher _ , let me tell you, if it goes well the benefits will far outweigh anything negative.” Wow. A halfway decent piece of advice. Alfred nodded to prove that he understood.  _ Not _ that he was going to tell Kiku, but that he kind of recognized it as an option. Francis pushed him with his shoulder playfully. “So… Give me a name, will you? Don’t leave me hanging in suspense,” he encouraged. Alfred rubbed his neck awkwardly.

“That’s another thing… He’s kind of one of Artie’s rivals…” he admitted. 

“Ah! I love him already! A name, a name! Maybe I know this boy.” Alfred smiled to himself, hugging the pillow and blanket tighter to him. 

“Uh… His name’s Kiku…”

“The Japanese boy?” Alfred blinked in surprise. “Yao’s relative?” That surprised him even more.

“Kiku is related to Yao?” Alfred questioned. Francis nodded, blond hair that was pulled back into a loose ponytail swaying as he did. 

“Yes. As I recall they used to live together, but… That is no longer the case,” Francis explained. He seemed hesitant to say  _ something _ . Had… something happened between Kiku and Yao? Well, obviously they weren’t the closest considering Yao was part of Artie’s gang, who were rivals with Kiku’s. But, honestly, it was too soon to assume anything. 

“What happened between them?”

“Oh, nothing, really. Yao moved out. The way I understand it Kiku was just fine with living alone.”

“But why did Yao move out?” Alfred dug deeper. Not realizing that he may regret it. Francis watched him carefully. 

“He and Ivan Braginsky have a situation much like, ah, your brother’s and mine. They moved in together,” Francis explained nonchalantly. Alfred was mildly concerned about his eyes popping out of their sockets. 

“ _ Ivan _ ? And...  _ Yao _ ?”

“You’re not very quick at picking up on these things, are you?”

“Apparently not! Dude! Is there  _ anyone _ that I’m close to that  _ isn’t _ queer?” Alfred gasped. Francis tilted his head, thinking about it. He thought about it some more, brow furrowing. 

“Do you know Ivan’s sisters…?” he decided, finally.

“No,” Alfred informed him. Francis thought some more. And some more. 

“I don’t think so, no,” he said finally. Alfred sighed. 

“I think I need some water,” he announced. 

Arthur was brewing tea in the kitchen. Alfred was having trouble looking at him after all he’d found out. “Care for a spot of tea, Alfred? Heals the soul after a botched-up date, you know,” Artie offered. Alfred shook his head, sipping at his glass and attempting to scurry away. “Is something the matter, lad?” His bushy eyebrows were drawn together with concern.  _ Well, for one, you never told me you were getting down and dirty with a soc while apparently I was  _ in the house _ , Artie. And that I was worried about the both of you hating me for no reason.  _ Alfred thought. 

“Nope. I think I’m good,” Alfred said. Francis sashayed past, turning to raise an eyebrow at Alfred. 

“Alfred, talk to your brother. It’ll do you well,” the Frenchman scolded. 

“Talk to me about what?” Arthur interrogated, regarding both Alfred and Francis accusingly. “What are the two of you keeping from me?” he grouched. 

“Nothing at all,  _ mon amour _ ,” Francis purred, pressing a kiss to Arthur’s temple.

“What the bloody hell do you think you’re  _ doing _ , frog?!” the Brit hissed. Francis leaned closer to whisper what he’d done in Artie’s ear. Alfred watched the two of them through new eyes. Watched Artie, the emotionally constipated lovebird, curl almost imperceptibly towards Francis. Even as his face hardened in rage at Francis’ words. 

Arthur threw a punch, but Francis knew him all too well. And knew to duck. “That was weak,  _ mon amour _ . You don’t really want to hurt me,” Francis reminded him with a small smile, taking one of his hands and pulling him closer. Artie let him. Eugh. Francis cupped a hand to Arthur’s cheek, Arthur leaning into it subconsciously as they stared into each other's eyes.

Were they… Were they going to kiss? “You’re right…” Arthur mumbled. “I don’t want to hurt you…” Francis smiled. 

It happened so fast the next thing Alfred registered was the sound of the slap. “I WANT TO MURDER YOU, YOU TIT! How  _ dare _ you tell him without my consent?!” 

“Hey!” Alfred spoke up. “You should have told me in the first place!” he fumed. Francis nodded in agreement, a red mark across his cheek from Artie’s palm. 

“The boy is right, Arthur. He deserved to know after all this time.”

“I did!” Alfred said for the sake of emphasis. Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. 

“Well, now you do. And that’s that. Let’s move on,” the Brit said quietly. 

“Great. Now, hug it out. You two are together. Act like it,” Alfred said firmly, scolding the two of them like the children they were acting like. They both turned to and stared at him. Okay, so maybe Alfred wasn’t the best as playing leader, here. He held his hands up innocently. His point had been made. Maybe? 

Francis opened his arms wide, grinning flirtatiously. Arthur blew a strand of hair out of his face, arms folded stubbornly for a long while before giving in. “ _ Fine _ ! But don’t expect me to apologize. He deserved it.”

 

Alfred didn’t see Kiku again for the rest of the weekend. Kiku didn’t call. Neither did Alfred. Rather, he just kind of sat perched on his bed staring at the phone. Mentally begging it to ring. Because he couldn’t find it in himself to call first. What would he even say to Kiku when he saw him next, most likely at school? Everything would feel different now, which was totally uncool. But maybe it wouldn’t change much. Maybe they could get back into the old, comfortable routine. And Alfred could stay shut up about anything and everything would be okay. 

A good plan, he told himself. It was only right, he kept trying to make himself believe. Trying, of course, but he was failing miserably. Francis and Matthew stayed over the rest of the weekend. And, apparently, Matthew already knew about their big brothers. Had figured it out for himself, he told Alfred. And Francis hadn’t denied it when Matthew had asked, naturally. And now that the cat was out of the bag, the old married couple were slightly, but painfully noticeably, more a couple. 

And as Alfred watched the two of them wash dishes side by side, occasionally playfully bumping the other’s hip. Or serving each other coffee when they were half-dead with sleepiness in the mornings and communicating solely through grunts and tiny smiles coaxed out by the other. Or just sitting together on the couch, leaning into each other as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Or even when Matthew would talk to Gilbert over the phone, a finger twirled in the cord, and hearing his basically-brother laugh more than he had in a while... 

Alfred couldn’t help but feel as if there was something missing with his own life. 

And the problem was, as of recently, he finally knew what he  _ wanted _ to fill that empty space.  _ Who _ he wanted to be there. 

Ugh, he had it  _ bad _ . 

And he knew it; not that he liked it. There was a certain dread when it came to the idea of seeing Kiku at school, even though seeing and talking to his friend was what he wanted more than anything else at that moment.   

Be that as it may, Alfred was more than hesitant to approach the boy sitting in their usual spot reading Alfred’s comic. What if he said something really stupid? What if he accidentally blurting something out? Arthur and Francis wouldn’t hate him for his crush, but the thought that his  _ crush might _ was more than he could deal with. And so he lurked some. And from a distance, he felt himself swooning like a schoolgirl in Kiku’s animes. Kiku wasn’t even  _ doing _ anything much, just reading, his beautiful eyes that were the color of the leaves dying on the trees and of the chocolates that he had brought him scanning across the pages and his thin, nimble fingers turning the pages as he went. He was wearing his old greaser jacket, worn leather, holes, and all. Unlike on their ‘date’, when his hair had been more tamed, combed, and cleaned, it was back to its usual state: an unkempt, bedhead mess of hair grease. He was small and curled up even smaller as he engrossed himself in the tales of Alfred’s favorite superheroes. Alfred sighed dreamily, slumping against the tree he was hiding behind as he took the time where he remained unseen by his friend to finally have an uninhibited chance to stare. “Hey, Alfred!” the voice appeared behind him out of nowhere. Ugh, this whole crush thing was really putting a damper on his secret agent abilities. 

“WHAT? NOTHING!” Alfred responded cleverly, giving him plenty of wiggle room to sneakily finagle himself out of trouble. Okay, maybe not  _ exactly _ .

“Woah, Alfred… Are you alright?” Matthew asked, peering at Al through his round glasses. 

“Yeah! Yeah, fine! Great! Dandy as a dinmont terrier, champ!” 

“Right… Of course…” Matthew was still staring at him warily. Alfred leaned against the tree in the smoothest, most greaser way possible. 

“What can I help ya with, Mattie?” Alfred asked, expertly changing the subject. “You need me and my heroic greaser strength to rough some hood up a bit? Some cat giving you troubles, soc-y?” Alfred ground a fist into his hand. Matthew laughed quietly at him. 

“Um… No? Sorry? I was just wondering what you were doing out here alone,” he explained. 

“Nothing! I thought we covered this, Mattie, gosh!” he forced a loud chuckle. Matthew looked mildly concerned for his well-being, so he continued on. “I could ask the same thing to you! Where’s Gil? Aren’t the two of you permanently attached at the hip? Like Ivan and Yao, I hear?” Alfred added cleverly, purely for the sake of proving that he was perfectly aware of the goings-on of the world around him. 

“Um… Actually…”

“I’M BACK,  _ MEIN LIEB _ !” the Prussian in question tugged Matthew to his side. “What? Are you just standing here staring at Kiku because you don’t have the guts to ask him to dinner yourself?” Gilbert asked, turning to Alfred. 

“N-No! NO! DUDE!” Yes. Yes, exactly. Gilbert waved him off. 

“Whatever. You’d better wrap up your gawking, though,” he told him. 

“Why?” Alfred said without meaning to. Gilbert snorted with laughter. 

“Because he’s coming this way, you sad sap!” Gilbert yelled loud enough for Kiku, who had gotten up to see why exactly their group was converging around the tree. Alfred’s heart leapt alarmingly. 

“Hello, Alfred,” Kiku greeted him good-naturedly. He looked happy to see him and Alfred felt as if it were strangling him. 

“Hey, Kiku!” he managed to choke out. The two of them looked at each other, Alfred’s heart being vacuumed up by him. Alfred was the one to look away first this time. “Uh, gotta go! School work and stuff! You know the drill,” he poorly excused before turning and full-on sprinting. 

The rest of the day was like that, brief words exchanged between them that didn’t say near enough but then again also way too much, and Alfred generally avoiding direct contact. 

So was the next day. 

And the next.

And the one after that… Actually, Kiku called him that day. And they talked some about the comics he had read. But it wasn’t the same as before, when they could talk for hours blending one subject and the next seamlessly. The gaps of silence were immense and suffocating, but Alfred didn’t know what to say. And neither did Kiku, apparently. But Alfred didn’t want to stop talking to him and maybe it was his optimistic imagination, but it seemed that Kiku felt the same… But Kiku was still the one that called it quits for the day. Alfred didn’t want him to go, but he couldn’t  _ say _ that. And so he didn’t.

The two didn’t even talk on that Friday. And it was tearing Alfred apart, but what was he supposed to do? Frankly, he had no idea, only that  _ something _ had to be done. He was losing him. And even if it might have been for the better, there was no way he could just  _ let _ that happen. But nevertheless, he spent the rest of the evening counting down to the weekend in his room waiting for a possible phone call that never came. 

Saturday, though. Saturday he had his mind set on doing something.  _ Anything _ . What was irrelevant. 

And so he found himself at Kiku’s front door, knocking and waiting for much too long to be rational. No answer. Not a peep. He sat on the porch for over an hour, waiting like a lost puppy. Not a single sign. He considered grabbing the key from its hiding place and just putting on one of Kiku’s movies until he got back, but then determined that that would be rather rude. 

And it wasn’t like he could just  _ waltz _ up to Kiku’s friends’ place, even if he knew where they were at. He would likely not be welcome, considering he was still part of Artie’s gang, whether he had some inside connections or not. So who else could he possibly go to to possibly ask about his whereabouts? Someone that was on his side…

So, that was how he ended up knocking on Wang Yao’s door. And how he nearly had a heart attack when Ivan opened the door instead. Just for a second, though. Alfred wasn’t intimidated by him or anything. The fact that the Russian was taller and meatier didn’t matter. Alfred could totally hold his own against him… Alfred had to remind himself that Ivan was on his side. As he always seemed to have to. 

But Alfred would still win by a long shot in an arm wrestling match. Just to put that out there. 

Alfred tried for a polite smile, which Ivan returned out of decency. How the guy managed to look so kindhearted and still give out the vibe of ‘ _ Please get off of my doorstep and don’t come back _ ’, Alfred would never figure out. But it hung there like a storm cloud of doom nevertheless. “Uh, hey, Ivan!” Alfred greeted as upbeat as possible. 

“Alfred F. Jones. What brings you here today?” his voice was sweet and inviting, but that wasn’t the impression that Alfred got. He shifted uncomfortably. 

“I’m looking for Yao, actually…?” he said. Ivan continued to stand there smiling. “Uh, is he here?”

“Yes, he is. He lives here.”

“Yeah, I know that… That’s… Kind of why I’m here… Can I talk to him? Please?” Alfred continued to fight off the urge to stretch upwards to rival the Russian’s height. Alfred got the feeling that Ivan knew too. Ivan closed his eyes in a continuation of the happy smile saga. 

“Of course. Right this way, please come in.” Alfred cautiously followed behind the looming man who turned and walked into the depths of the house. He always got the feeling that he should have a weapon in his hand when in the presence of Ivan and he wasn’t entirely sure why. He snapped out of it when the person he was searching for walked into the room. 

Yao didn’t notice him right away, as he was sifting through some junk mail as he walked, shirtless and barefoot in just a pair of jeans slung low on his hips. His long hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail to keep it out of the way. “Who was it? Some salesman? Don’t they know they’re not  _ wanted _ here?” the Chinese man puffed irritably. 

“Actually, little Alfred is here, dearest,” Ivan all but cooed to his lover. Little Alfred?  _ Little _ Alfred? Oh, the bastard. Yao’s head snapped up in surprise at the company, looked Alfred up and down a couple times, and turned back to the envelopes in his hand with a sigh. 

“Well, he’s not wanted here either…” Yao stated bluntly, not bothering to sugarcoat it at all.  Wow, rude. “Why are you here?” he asked, looking up at him through a single strand of silky hair that had fallen free. Ivan strode forward to tuck it back behind his ear. 

“I came to ask you if you know where I could find Kiku?” Alfred said. Yao raised an eyebrow.

“You want to know about Kiku?” he repeated back to him. “I thought you were going to ask me for more money…” 

“Dude, that was one time, okay…”

“Which you never paid me back for!” Yao argued. 

“BESIDE THE POINT! Do you know where Kiku is or not, Yao?” 

“Probably out getting ready for the long trip? How should I know?” Yao answered. Alfred froze. Trip?

“Trip? What do you mean? Where’s he going?” Alfred took special care to ignore Ivan snaking his arms around Yao’s bare torso from behind, leaning down to nuzzle affectionately at his neck. He also took special care to ignore what he  _ definitely _ hadn’t noticed while ignoring Ivan, which was the already-present collection of blotchy bruises dotting the side of Yao’s neck from Ivan’s mouth  _ previously _ . 

“He’s going back to Japan,” Yao replied, slightly distracted. Alfred’s blood ran cold.

“What? What do you mean? F-For how long?”

“I don’t think even  _ he _ knows that, Alfred.” Kiku hadn’t told Alfred anything about this… but then again… they hadn’t been talking all that much lately… and Kiku was never exactly an open book anyway. Regret filled Alfred to the brim. 

“But! He  _ can’t _ ! What about school?” Yeah. He couldn’t leave in the middle of the school year! Yao had reached a hand back behind him to thread in Ivan’s hair, about half turned towards him. 

“I think he was looking into tutors?” Oh… He  _ could _ leave right in the middle of the school year then… That didn’t mean he would, right? 

Right?

“B-But, I--” Alfred didn’t even know what he was going to say. It didn’t matter either, because Yao cut him off. 

“Alfred, why don’t you go talk to  _ him _ about it if you’re so concerned? He might be home by now!”

“But--”

“I think you should go see him!”

“But  _ Yao _ !” Alfred whined. 

“ _ Aiyah _ , Alfred! Go talk to  _ Kiku _ about it! I’m busy right now!”

“No you’re not!” Alfred protested. Yao’s answer was taking Ivan’s face into his hands and smashing their lips together, Ivan stumbling forward a bit as he was tugged down.

“Busy!” Yao snapped, pulling away. “Shoo!”

Alfred left, hands in his pockets dismally. Kiku? Was  _ moving _ to  _ Japan _ and he hadn’t told Alfred about it? No, it couldn’t be… But he’d heard it straight from Yao.

Kiku was leaving. 

Alfred started running.


	9. Confession

Kiku balanced the stuffed paper grocery bag on his hip as he felt for the house key. Some mundane shopping had been long overdue. He had just located the key when he heard it. It was the sound of shoes slapping on pavement. This, of course, was followed by a loud, held out “KIKUUUUUUUU!” Ah, Alfred. With just that, Kiku’s day had brightened considerably. The two of them had not been as communicative as they usually were as of late, but Kiku tried not to let any of it get to him. It was probably nothing personal, after all. However, it had seemed out of character for Alfred  _ not _ be almost overbearing in his presence. 

Though Kiku was almost 100% positive that Alfred’s strange behavior had started around the time of Gilbert putting them together for a ‘date’, he told himself that he believed that Alfred was just having a busy week of school work. He told himself that he believed that soon, everything would straighten itself out like normal for the two of them. Kiku had even stocked up on pocky sticks and other snacks  _ for _ Alfred, as the American could eat more than him in one sitting than Kiku often did in a day. 

It was probably a good thing too, because Alfred was back now. As Kiku felt himself give a small smile at the thought, he realized that he had really  _ missed _ Alfred being there. He felt as if he had found something that he had lost, even for a short while. 

Kiku set down his grocery bag and walked out to the yard to meet his friend halfway. It wasn’t until Alfred was closer that Kiku realized that he wasn’t running and yelling out of his typically happy-go-lucky nature. Alfred was talking, breathless and rambling almost manically, before Kiku could even greet him or ask him what was the matter. “Kiku!” he gasped. “Kiku, you can’t go! You can’t go, you can’t! You’re the best friend I’ve got right now, dude! I don’t know what I would do if you leave. I mean, I know that you probably want to go and I know that it might be good… Better… It might be best if you did go, but--”

“Alfred, what on Earth are you talking about?” Kiku stopped him, brows knit together in confusion and concern. Alfred took a second or two to breathe.

“I talked to Yao, Kiku. He said that you were going to Japan,” Alfred explained, slumping, looking as if he had been betrayed by Kiku. Oh, so that was what this was about.

“That? That’s not  _ officially _ what I’m going to do; it’s still buried deep in the planning phase…” At his words, Alfred released a relieved huff of air. 

“Kiku, please don’t go!” Alfred was all but begging. 

“I don’t understand why you are so opposed to the idea,” Kiku said defensively. 

“And  _ I _ don’t get why you want to leave! Or why you haven’t told me that you were going to! Aren’t we friends?!” 

“Alfred, I fully intended to tell you if I decided that I was  _ definitely _ going, but I’m not sure if I’ll have the funds yet. It is something that I would  _ like _ to do, yes; Japan is a beautiful place. Even if my plans  _ were _ decided upon, it’s not as if you were available for me to  _ tell _ you!” the sudden vehemence in Kiku’s voice surprised him, but he didn’t back down nevertheless. Alfred looked hurt, as if Kiku had hit a sore point. “And I still don’t understand why you wouldn’t want me to go.”

“I  _ wanted  _ to hang out with you! I just… couldn’t... “ Al rubbed at his arm, not sure what else to say for a moment or two. Then, he looked up. “And I don’t want you to go because you’re my friend and you’re really important to me, okay? And if you left I’d miss you so much. I really like just talking with you and hanging out. I just really like  _ you _ !” he spoke in a sort of frenzy that was a mix of controlled anger and despair. Definitely not like the person that Kiku was used to, but his words still made his heart stutter in his chest. “You want to know  _ why _ I haven’t been talking to you? I didn’t want to mess everything up! I didn’t want you to hate me because I  _ like _ you too friggin’ much, Honda Kiku.” Kiku stood, staring and frozen. His heart  _ ached _ , but he didn’t know what he was supposed to do. With a shaky sigh, he ran a hand through his hair, trying to organize a coherent sentence. Alfred probably didn’t even mean…  _ that _ . 

‘That’, which would mean that the two of them felt the exact same way. 

He cleared his throat. Maybe he  _ should _ set the record straight… on at least one account, because Alfred was getting the wrong idea and it was very possible that he may say some things he would later come to regret. 

“Alfred… I wanted to take a  _ vacation _ back to Japan; probably not more than a month. I’m not moving.” There felt like there was so much more to say, which there was, but it was only a matter of if it would be said. 

“O-Oh… Just a vacation… Um… Sorry… About all that…” Alfred looked like he wanted to sink into the ground. Kiku could relate… But not yet; there was still something  _ nagging _ … Something he had said previously.

“I-It’s quite alright… But, tell me this, what did you  _ mean _ when you said that it might be best if I  _ did _ move?” Thus, the impression that his friend wanted nothing more than to hide from the world intensified. Alfred opened his mouth to say something, which was accompanied by half a hand gesture, but then he drew back thinking intently. 

He tried to start speaking again. And once again, he failed and/or thought better of it.

Alfred rubbed at his chin, as if stroking a nonexistent beard. He looked up at Kiku, who was waiting, and then back down again. 

Finally, he snapped his fingers, signalling the brilliant idea that had come to him. “I know! How about we forget this ever happened and go watch movies, yeah?” he suggested. Kiku raised an eyebrow. 

“Or…? You could answer my question…?” 

“Or! An even  _ better _ idea, Kiks, I could  _ not _ do that and we could go gorge on pocky and Coca Cola.”

“Alfred… Please.” Alfred sighed, but not quite in defeat or resignation. Yet. 

“Kiku… Dude, I  _ really _ don’t wanna talk about it, okay?” 

“Alfred,  _ I  _ want you to. It could be beneficial to both of us if you have something to get off of your chest, you know,” Kiku encouraged in a way that would make it difficult for Alfred to get out of. He  _ had _ to know. Although, Kiku wouldn’t put it past his friend to literally take off running to avoid facing his problems. 

Alfred groaned dramatically like a toddler would. Kiku felt the noise should be followed by him flopping face first into the grass in defiance, but it wasn’t. He stood there, his sparkling blue eyes conflicted as he looked, really  _ looked _ , at Kiku in a way that made him feel exposed. 

Alfred ran an unsure hand through his hair, looked to the sky, and grumbled something that sounded suspiciously like ‘Francis, I hope you’re right about this’. 

Then, he looked Kiku directly in the eye… before shirking away once more. 

A deep, long breath.

Alfred didn’t give himself time to think about it anymore and just started  _ talking _ . “Okay, I said that, but I don’t really mean that even though it’s probably true…? Like, I don’t want to screw up the awesomeness between us, dude, it’s so totally cool being friends with you. I just… I’m not  _ normal _ and my feelings revolving around you, as of lately, aren’t  _ normal _ either, so I think if you  _ did _ leave it might balance out the normality of everything, but, you see, I don’t  _ want _ that to happen… Because, when I say ‘not normal’... and when I said I ‘like’ you…  _ Thaaat _ doesn’t quite give it justice. And, before I say this, please don’t hate me, dude. I mean, I thought Francis would hate me when I told him this, but then it turns out he’s been  _ with _ my big brother… Sorry. Off track. Anyway. Kiku, lately, I’ve… I think…  _ Dude, I think I have this big _ , uh… Um. I… Kiku, I’ve got a crush on you.” Alfred ground to a finish with a pained wince at how awfully worded that had been and squeezed closed eyes because he couldn’t bring himself to look at Kiku. His problem was, he was expecting Kiku to be disgusted or unhappy, when that couldn’t have been more wrong. 

Kiku released a shuddering breath that he hadn’t noticed he was holding, sparing a brief thought to wondering how his legs were supporting him when he could barely feel them through the gelatinous feeling that had taken over them. Alfred’s problem was that he didn’t think Kiku reciprocated the feelings. Kiku was now faced with the problem that he had  _ no clue _ as to how he should say he did.

That was why what he said next was so brainless. “So… I scared you away when I brought up the pocky game? Was that it?” Kiku resisted the urge to slap himself across the face. Alfred laughed, one that Kiku knew and loved. 

“Yeah, dude. Yeah, that was it,” he chuckled, nodding and blushing. Kiku wanted to reach out to him, to rest a hand against that cheek and run a thumb over that shade of pink. However, it seemed as though his legs weren’t the only things immobilized. The two of them stood there, toe to toe in Kiku’s front lawn, staring at each other; waiting for the other to do something. “Soo…?” Alfred prompted, snapping Kiku out of it enough to recognize that he should say something, but not enough to cause his thoughts to move faster than oozing honey.

“I…” Kiku started in hopes of speeding up the thought process some. It didn’t really work much. Alfred was watching anxiously. “I thought I was the only one that felt that way…” he managed to say, finally, in what was more of an exhalation of breath than a sentence. 

The look of pure joy on Alfred’s face made up for just about any second thought that had nagged his conscience since the time he had stayed over talking about manga. If one had ever appeared that they could explode into a glittery explosion of happiness and confetti, it would have been Alfred at that exact moment. No, he didn’t explode, but he  _ did _ jump into the air in a massive flailing of limbs and excitement before seeming to remember his greaser cool. 

“In that case… Dinner? Um… Whenever?” Alfred offered with that dorky, toothy grin of his. Kiku wiped a hand down his face to conceal the smile blossoming on his own face. 

“I must say, that was quite possibly the  _ worst _ executed confession of affection and date invitation I’ve seen… But I’ll take it. What day would be most convenient for you for this… dinner?” 

“ _ Yeeeah _ , well… Sorry ‘bout that… But, hey, at least it  _ happened _ ! And, um… As soon as possible! I mean, my schedule is all clear for you, babe!” He was trying, he really was. The effort was written all over his face and in the slightly deeper and raspier than normal tone of voice. Alfred F. Jones was attempting to fit the role of a greaser with his romantic interest. Alfred F. Jones, as it happened, was truly only a wanna-be greaser at heart. Alfred F. Jones, having been raised by both a greaser and a soc, was a certain mix of both. Alfred F. Jones, did, however, make a wonderfully attractive sight in a typical greaser’s getup, so Kiku could let some things slide to a certain degree. Kiku looked at him for a moment or two. Alfred hunched a little, putting his hands into his jean pockets, sheepishly smiling over at him. 

“Right,” Kiku said at the same time that Alfred blurted a ‘sorry’. “ _ Anyway _ ,” he started again slowly. “Today is a Saturday. No better day for a date. Can you do later this evening…?” Alfred nodded quickly and enthusiastically.

“Yeah! Yeah, totally! No problem there! You got it, Kiku!” he assured with a thumbs-up. Kiku felt himself fighting a losing battle with yet another smile. He wasn’t sure the last time he had been so smiley; if ever. Alfred just had that effect on people. 

“Fantastic. I’ll see you at 6:00, then?” Kiku proposed. Alfred nodded again, that one stubborn strand of hair that Kiku had become overly fond of bobbing sillily along with him. He checked his watch, knowing that he would meet the time, but wanting to know how fast he would have to go. He continued with the nodding. Then, stopped himself in favor of standing there smiling at Kiku.  _ Then _ , he snapped out of it. 

“Yeah! I can do that! I can totally do that! I’ll see ya then! I-I should head home, but I’ll come getcha at 6!” Alfred confirmed excitedly, bouncing some.

He tilted his head as if looking for some opening. Kiku was confused by it at first, but then… Alfred offered his hand out to shake for lack of knowing what else to do. 

Oh. 

He wanted to hug Kiku, but remembered the fiasco of what happened last time. He remembered Kiku’s personal space issues. 

Blushing, Kiku hesitantly reached out to take Alfred’s outstretched hand and shook it awkwardly. Alfred’s hand was so much larger and so much warmer than Kiku’s own. It was probably the longest handshake that he’d ever had, Alfred drawing it out by playfully swinging their hands, not seeming at all put out by the situation. 

Honestly, Kiku wasn’t entirely sure how long they stood there like that, just dorkily holding hands at a distance out in the middle of the lawn. He had gotten a ‘little’ consumed by Alfred’s eyes… Which was something that wasn’t incredibly uncommon for him. Alfred was the one that snapped out of it with a shake of his blond head. “Well! 6:00! I’ll be here! You can count on it! See ya!” He let go and turned to run off, waving a cheery goodbye as he went. “Bye, Kikuuu!” he called over his shoulder. 

He then proceeded to trip over his own feet and fall in an ungraceful pile of limbs. 

He popped back up again, brushing at new grass stains on his jeans and gave one last final wave as if nothing had happened before carrying on with his running home. 

Kiku watched after him with a stupid smile stuck to his face before coming to his senses and recognizing the fact that he was standing alone in his front yard staring into the distance dreamily. Turning on his heel, he hurried over to his front door, grabbing his groceries on his way. He felt as if he were in a daze, putting the paper bag on the counter before sinking down into the nearest chair, thinking on what had just occurred. 

Alfred liked him back, and not just platonically. 

He had admitted it right in his front yard not five minutes ago. 

Kiku had a date. 

He had a date with Alfred. 

He was glad that he lived alone, because there was no one to see him bury his blushing, ecstatic face into the sleeves of his jacket. 

 


	10. Super-Mega-Large Popcorn (Extra Butter)

Alfred, for one thing, had not quite been expecting his talk with Kiku to go in the direction that it had. Alfred, for another thing, couldn’t have been happier that it had. He ran the whole way home, heart pounding in pure joy and excitement and jittery butterflies and so many other things that he couldn’t even put a name to. Really, his feelings could best be summarized by his urges to scream at the sky in triumph, bury himself in a blanket so no one could witness his shy, girly giggles, and give the best happy dance the world had ever seen. All at the same time. Yeah. 

He probably looked somewhat psychotic when he showed up with his huge grin plastered across his face, sweaty from sprinting, and mildly scuffed up from his fall back at Kiku’s. He didn’t care. He had a date, a  _ real _ date this time, with  _ Honda Kiku _ . It was  _ happening _ ! Oh, he needed to call Francis. He owed Francis a gift basket or something. 

Alfie burst into the house with a crash. Arthur, who was mostly used to this kind of thing, didn’t even start as he looked up from his tea and scone. “Well, well, look what the cat dragged in,” the Brit said as a greeting. “You look awful chipper. Care to share why?” Artie set aside his tea, trying to show that he was an older sibling that cared about the events of his little brother’s life. He came to regret that decision when, in a fit of elation, Alfred pulled him up out of his plush armchair and spun him around in a circle by the hands as if they were in a musical. A musical, that is, where one of the people involved in the duet was yelling in a surprised, British accent. “WHAT THE BLOODY HELL--” he caught himself. “What’s gotten  _ into _ you, Alfred?” he asked as his initial shock turned into amusement.

“Sorry, Artie! Just  _ really _ ,  _ really _ happy right now. I’ve got a date tonight!” he cheered, pumping two fists into the air. Arthur chuckled at him, crossing his arms. 

“Is that so? Congratulations. Is this the same person as last time? I thought that all went down in flames?”

“Yeah… Same person. And it wasn’t  _ that _ bad, Artie.”

“ _ Right _ , you just come home and sulk in your room on a regular basis,” Arthur challenged him with sarcasm. “Ah, well. I wish you luck. Where are you going this time?” Alfred stopped at that. Um. 

“I… I don’t…  _ know _ , actually… I should probably figure that out,” he reasoned. Arthur scoffed playfully, reaching up to ruffle his hair. 

“Sounds like a romantic night to remember to me. Better get a jump on making those plans, though…” And just like that, Artie was back to his overrated warmed leaf water and pastry.  

“Will do! Thanks, Artie!” Alfred said. Arthur just hummed back in reply. “Oh! And couldja call Francis down here?” he added from around a corner on his way to showering. Arthur looked up slowly. Warily. 

“... Why?” 

“I need to thank him for his advice,” Alfred explained in a rush. Arthur made a noise of disgust in his throat. 

“Oh for Pete’s sake… What did you do, Alfred? Alfred, out of all these years I’ve raised you, I’d thought I’d driven one point  _ home _ : please, what _ ever _ you  _ do _ , don’t listen to Francis. He is a slimy frog and he gives just as good life lessons about 99.9% of the time,” Arthur stated bluntly, looking Alfred right in the eyes and pointing around his index finger for emphasis. 

“Re- _ lax _ , Artie. He just said to go for it and tell this person that I had a crush on ‘em. It actually worked, surprisingly enough, and guess who’s got a date this lovely evening? I’d just like to tell Francis thanks or I’d still probably be hiding with my head in the sand,” Alfred explained. “Besides,” he felt the need to add purely for the joy of seeing the look on Artie’s face. “You know you want to see him,” he wiggled his eyebrows at his brother and darted around the corner cackling like an ornery child. Artie grumbled some, but didn’t outright protest, so Al figured he was in the clear and carried on with his plan to take a shower to get all nice-smelling for Kiku, whistling as he went. 

Whistling that, naturally, turned to loud, off-key singing in the shower and using the soap bar as a microphone. And, incidentally, losing grip on the slippery microphone and accidentally launching it against the wall… And all of the other bottles… On the bright side, if it were bowling, it would have been a strike. Arthur banged on the door, then, shouting at him to shut his pie hole. Yeah, that was enough showering for one day. 

Continuing to hum out of rebellion, Alfred wrapped a fluffy towel around his lower half and stepped out of the shower. 

Once safely inside his room, it occurred to him that Artie had been right: he had a problem. How the heck would he know what to wear if he didn’t know where they were  _ going _ ? It was their  _ first date _ ! It should be good, shouldn’t it? But… What would Kiku like doing? They had a whole evening to themselves if they wanted it. They didn’t have to just pick a restaurant, share some symbolic date meal, and then part ways wondering if that went well for a first date. No, he was  _ Alfred F. Jones _ ! He could totally do better than that! Only… What was he supposed to… do? There was a knock at his door. Oh thank goodness. He almost tripped over himself in his hurry to fling it open.

Francis still had his hand raised to knock. “Ah, hello, Alfred! Arthur said you wanted to see me?” So he didn’t know anything from Artie. Francis looked uncertain. He must’ve assumed that Alfred was in need of advice or had bad news. 

Either way, he seemed really surprised when Alfred grabbed him in a massive hug that almost knocked him over. “ _ Sacre Bleu _ !” he exclaimed, stumbling back. 

“THANK YOU, FRANCIS! THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU!”

“What? What happened?” he gasped through Alfred’s rib-crushing bear hug, hesitantly patting Alfred’s back. 

“I did what you said, France-y pants! I told… my crush. AND I’VE GOT A DATE TONIGHT! WITH MY CRUSH! THANK YOOOOU!” 

“Ah, congratulations,  _ mon ami _ ! We must celebrate! How about we crack open a bottle of wine and give a toast to your love, eh?” he suggested, spreading his arms wide. 

“DON’T YOU DARE; HE’S UNDERAGE!” Arthur shouted from the next room over. 

“My apologies!” Francis called back to his lover before turning back to Al and lowering his voice to just above a whisper. “Looks like it’ll have to be our little secret then,  _ non _ ?” he winked with a grin. 

“Haha! Thanks, Francis, but I think I’m good,” Alfred assured him. Francis shrugged his shoulders.

“Suit yourself. Your brother and I will just have to have a glass on your behalf,” he said airily. “So…” he said after a second or two, drawing out the word. “What do you two young lovers have planned for your first evening together?” he asked. Alfred laughed nervously. 

“Yeah… About that… I don’t actually have anything planned yet…” he admitted.  

“Well… What would you like to do? And what would your date enjoy? Something with some sentimental or romantic benefits…?”

“Uh…”

 

A grand total of two hours later, Alfred was spiffied up enough for his first date with Honda Kiku. Francis and Arthur had fretted over him and his plans for the night until he had finally peeled himself away from them to actually go on the date. 

He was actually  _ going on the date _ .

Wowza, that was a bizarre thought. But it was  _ happening _ !

Alfred took a second or twenty to just dwell on that thought and  _ breathe _ (you know, just in case Kiku  _ took his breath away _ ) as he sat gripping the steering wheel of Arthur’s car (that he was letting him borrow for the evening under some interesting threats as to what would happen should he bring it back with even a  _ scratch _ ). He stared at the road ahead of him, going over the date plans in his head. It seemed cheesy; it didn’t seem like enough; there was always the possibility that it wasn’t what Kiku had in mind; everything could go up in flames; he was way overdressed and he knew it; Alfred’s stomach was a complete mess with butterflies that were inducing a slight feeling of nausea; and he couldn’t have been happier with his situation. He had a date with Honda Kiku. 

He smiled to himself, revved the car to life, blasted Arthur’s tunes, and hit the gas. 

 

Alfred checked his hair one more time in the rearview mirror and stepped out of the car, walking the seemingly endless distance to Kiku’s front door. He clutched onto the roses like a lifeline, which wasn’t the best idea considering the foil covering the thorns wasn’t all that thick. He knocked on the door with feigned, professional greaser confidence. And waited. He wasn’t sure how long. Not very long, in hindsight. Kiku must have been watching out the window. But it felt like an eternity in a matter of seconds. 

But then, it got better. Kiku opened the door and Alfred just about melted into a pile of goo right then and there. His jelly legs seemed to feel the need to make that a reality. If he weren’t rooted to the spot by the guy in front of him, he felt as if he’d faint. 

Kiku gave a hesitant smile as he looked up at him. It snapped Alfred out of it. He grinned hugely and stuck out the arm holding some pretty flowers. “Hey, Kiku,” he managed to say. 

“Hello, Alfred,” his frien--  _ date-- _ greeted, almost shyly taking the blooms. Kiku cleared his throat. “I… I’m going to go put these in some water before we go. Please, come in,” he said politely. Alfred followed him into the familiar setting. “Do you have plans for tonight?” Kiku asked conversationally. 

“C’mon, did you really think I’d take you on a date without knowing  _ what the date was _ ?” Alfred chided, playfully nudging him with his shoulder. Kiku shrugged sheepishly, filling a vase at the sink. 

“True, true… I  _ do _ feel underdressed, though… Should I go see if I possibly have something more formal?” he said, nodding to Alfred’s own attire. Alfred vigorously shook his head. 

“No, no! I’m way overdressed, Kiku. Artie and Francis both had a say in it. You look amazing as you are,” he said in the style of word vomit. The both of them blushed when they realized what had been said. Alfred cleared his throat awkwardly. “So anyway… I’ve got Arthur’s car and everything! It’s going to be awesome! I think. I really,  _ really _ hope…” Kiku smiled at him.

“I’m sure whatever you have planned will be perfect, Alfred. And you look very nice too, by the way,” he said, seeming very proud that he made Alfred blush… Again. 

He wasn’t  _ wrong _ . On the subject of the clothes, anyway. He was wearing basically what he had originally started with last time. So, Arthur had been the one making most of the calls, not Alfred or Francis. But, hey, Kiku said he looked good!

_ Kiku said he looked good _ !

He was back in his clean white button-up shirt, the black bowtie, suspenders that were keeping up his rather baggy black slacks, and shiny jet black dress shoes. His hair was mostly untouched by gel, but it was neatly combed. He looked prissy, probably, and almost ridiculously overdressed given the plans, but he didn’t care. 

  
  


What better possible first date plans than dinner and a movie? The dinner was even AT the movies! HOW CONVENIENT WAS THAT? And the movie they’d be seeing? An adaptation of Alfred’s favorite comic book series  _ that was also the one that Kiku had been reading _ ! And he was taking Kiku to the drive-in in a car. An actual, working car. Not some all show and no go pile of junk like what Francis kept in his garage in pristine condition. Totally cool. 

Even if it was borrowed from his big brother…

Alfred kind of wanted to high five himself when Kiku’s face lit up at the mention of the show that they were going to see. And also high five himself because he was going to see the movie on a date with the cutest cat in town. 

A short-ish drive and maybe five minutes later, Alfred was buying Kiku whatever he wanted from the drive-in concession hut. He stuck with keeping it light and settling for a slice of pizza and a medium soda. Alfred took it upon himself to gather the rest of the provisions in his place with:

  * One super-mega-large popcorn (extra butter)


  * One bag of licorice


  * One bag of gummy worms
  * One bag of M&Ms


  * One slice of greasy pepperoni pizza to match Kiku’s (he had to get some actual _food_ in there for dinner)


  * One large Coca Cola (diet)



With the goodies stacked in his arms, he carried the hoard back to Artie’s car as carefully as possible. Kiku gave him a sideways glance as he crawled into his seat, just praying more than anything that the pile wouldn’t collapse and spill all over Arthur’s upholstery. “Can you really eat all that?” he asked, genuinely concerned. Alfred laughed, taking a gulp of Coke. 

“Heck yeah, dude.” Kiku raised an eyebrow, but shrugged. 

“As long as I don’t have to rush you to the hospital in a food coma, have all the stuff you want…” Alfred snorted at that. 

“ _ Please _ , you should’ve seen me this one time… Okay, so Artie had this thing where he had to leave me home alone for a couple days when I was littler. I think maybe… third grade? And we had leftovers and stuff in the fridge and everything, but it was Artie’s cooking so… He left me money for food too if I wanted to walk and get something at the store. Plus, you know, a wad of cash to be used only for emergencies. Then, he left me alone telling me to use my common sense.  _ Basically _ , he came back about two or three days later to find me passed out in front of the TV with a belly ache ‘cause I’d literally spent all the money, emergency included, that he’d given me on all the junk it would buy. And I ate it  _ all _ . In a day. But I was  _ mostly _ fine,” Alfred recounted, smiling off into space at the memories. Kiku chuckled lightly, sipping at his own drink. 

“My apologies. Clearly I underestimated you; I’m in the presence of a professional,” he said jokingly in a tone that didn’t  _ sound _ like he was joking. Alfred threw his head back as he laughed. He popped a handful of M&Ms into his mouth. 

“You better believe it, Kiks,” he giggled through the crunchy candy chocolate goodness. Alfred snapped out of it when the overly cheery, repeating ads on the big screen up ahead darkened into something that was inherently way cooler-looking. “OH! OH IT’S STARTING!” Alfred yelled suddenly, bouncing in his seat and fumbling with the radio dial to tune into the station that would give them the sound. 

The introduction played with heroic music as the logo for the super hero flashed on the screen. Alfred cheered in jubilation through a mouthful of popcorn he had shoved in his face and then quieted down in eager anticipation of seeing his favorite heroes on the big screen. 

It began setting the scene for the villain to come in, dark and scary.  _ Oooh _ Alfred knew who was coming! After the initial evil deed was over and done with, the camera panned to the maniacally laughing being that had done it. Alfred held his breath, feeling the old loathing for the bad guy that he had while reading in the comics. And then… And then the villain was… Not what he expected. Didn’t look much like the dude in the comic at all… Oh. Okay. It was okay. He was sure the movie would be fine anyway, but he couldn’t ignore the slight sinking feeling of disappointment that had taken root. 

Of course, it was blown away when the  _ hero _ was about to come onscreen! Ah, the  _ real _ star of the show! He glanced over at Kiku in his excitement, trying to see if Kiku was just as excited to get his first glimpse of the movie representation of the coolest protagonist  _ ever _ as Alfred was. His face was alight with wonder and curiosity and anticipation and Alfred really wanted to lean over and press a smooch to his adorable cheek real quick, but he controlled himself. 

Alfred was grinning like an idiot. The hero was coming! That was his dad (who was going to die later, but Alfred chose to ignore that for the time being) that was talking to the police chief getting told about the situation! And if Alfred was  _ correct _ , the hero should be standing listening over there…? Oh! Oh there he was! The totally heroic silhouette in the shadows!

The camera zoomed in to give the first glimpse of the fully-costumed savior-of-the-day. 

Alfred didn’t realize he was leaning forward until his chest bumped the steering wheel.

He couldn’t be blamed. If it was like the comics, he was going to say his catchphrase once they showed his face!

The lighting shifted to reveal the hero. 

Alfred stopped. 

The hero didn’t say the catchphrase, but instead turned away with a flourish of his cape. 

That didn’t happen in the comics. 

He didn’t  _ look _ like that in the comics. The costume was even obviously dotted with inaccuracies. Alfred’s face slowly fell and he slumped back against the cushion of his seat. 

He took a deep breath and slowly let it out. It was okay. It was his  _ favorite character _ , but it’d be okay. The movie would still probably be awesome. He couldn’t expect the movie people to get  _ every _ detail correct, right? Then, Kiku spoke up, speaking Alfred’s thoughts exactly. “Hm… He looked different in the comics… And the costume isn’t exactly right… And didn’t something different happen with that part? Where’s he going now? In the comic, he went straight back to his headquarters to start his investigation on the subject of the criminal…?” 

     Alfred lost it, slamming a hand against the console. “I KNOW RIGHT? I WAS THINKING THAT TOO! TOTALLY NOT COOL OF THEM! THERE’S A  _ COMIC _ THAT IS  _ ILLUSTRATED OUT _ FOR THEM TO REFERENCE! Why… Why wouldn’t they get it right?” Kiku gave him a sad look, but then smiled for his benefit. 

“Hey, it’s okay. They might not have made it exactly like the books, but they can’t have strayed  _ too _ far, right?” he comforted reasonably. Alfred let out a sigh, crossing his arms and taking a harsh slurp of his Coke. 

“Yeah, you’re probably right…” he mumbled. 

But the thing was, as the movie progressed, it didn’t get better. If anything, it got  _ worse _ . And so basically, Alfred spent a good portion of the time shouting at the screen in protest (hey, they were in a car, they weren’t disturbing anyone) and a few times even  _ Kiku _ , quiet as he usually was, joined in. 

It wasn’t a good movie. It didn’t stick to the comic books, which would’ve  _ helped _ make it a  _ decent _ movie. The love interest was all  _ wrong _ . The hero’s personality and witty one-liners weren’t  _ there _ . The villain had no  _ depth _ . The plot was  _ off _ because  _ someone _ had thought it would be a better idea to do things differently (it wasn’t). 

Alfred groaned and leaned his head back against the seat. How  _ could _ they do this to his beloved comics? The movie was only about halfway over too. With no signs that it may improve. Great. He had about half his Coke left, had made a proper dent in the popcorn bucket, didn’t have many M&Ms left, and had shared a couple gummy worms and licorice strands with Kiku...  

Kiku.

Alfred  _ was _ on a date and it didn’t seem Kiku was enjoying the movie any more than Alfred was, though he occasionally made an effort to mask his displeasure out of politeness. Not good. 

But maybe it wasn’t  _ all bad _ . 

After all, not everyone that was there at the drive-in for a date had come solely to enjoy the movie. That much was obvious judging by the silhouettes of the couple parked in front of them that were attached at the mouth with hands roving everywhere. Alfred shot a sideways glance at Kiku, but then blushed. 

_ No _ , he didn’t plan to do anything like the other couple, but maybe, just maybe Kiku would be okay with--

Slowly, cautiously, and watching Kiku like a hawk out of his peripheral vision he slid his hand closer to Kiku’s until their hands lightly brushed. Kiku jolted at the contact before calming down again, shooting a wondering look over at Alfred. Alfred was blushing like crazy. He had absolutely no idea what to do, which wasn’t anything new when it came to Kiku, but… He swallowed his doubts. He  _ was _ a  _ greaser _ . He hesitantly touched Kiku’s hand again, lingering with his hand about half on, half hovering over/near Kiku’s. Kiku didn’t react, which gave Alfred the confidence to gently rest his hand on top of his date’s, his thumb gently stroking Kiku’s wrist. Alfred took a deep breath. 

And slowly adjusted his hand until he could curl his fingers around Kiku’s palm.  _ Kind of  _ holding his hand, but instead of entwining their fingers, just loosely cupping his palm. Kiku’s mouth quirked up into a tiny, embarrassed smile before doing the same. Alfred’s heart did a somersault in his chest at the simple action. Then, would it be okay if he…?

With the nervous focus of a man defusing a bomb, Alfred moved their hands once more and wriggled his fingers in between Kiku’s. 

Alfred didn’t realize that at some point he had stopped watching the movie and was staring directly at Kiku with wide eyes and an expression that must have been a comically funny-looking mix between happiness that it was going well and terror that that would change, but then Kiku turned his head to give him a small, genuine smile and gave his hand a squeeze. Alfred, blushing, grinned manically as he snapped his head back to the movie. 

Success. 


	11. Hullabaloo and Also Hoopla

Well, Alfred got to revel in his success for at least a little bit. There was the short period of time when he got to sit back, hold his best friend/date’s hand, and gorge himself on junk food he didn’t  _ really _ have to pay for with his free hand.

Then, there came the bit when he remembered that hands get sweaty and that someone had mussed up a movie about his favorite comic book series. So, there was the internal conflict of wondering if it would be less awkward to release Kiku’s hand to wipe his gross, sweaty palm on his pants or to just deal with it... on top of what felt like a personal offence to the beloved fictional characters. He glanced over at Kiku in hopes that the side of his face may hold the answers he was looking for. It didn’t. Kiku caught him and gave him a questioning look. Alfred shrugged sheepishly. “Uh… You having a good time?” he asked as if he were poorly reading from a script. 

“I appreciate all that you’ve done to make this date happen…” Oh, that didn’t sound too promising. “And I do like spending time with you.” That was… Better. “The pizza and soda was good. Thank you for paying for all that, by the way…” Yeah this wasn’t going too great. Alfred rubbed his thumb over Kiku’s knuckles. 

“You know… We don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to…” Alfred offered. Kiku watched him carefully. 

“Do you want to stay?” he countered. Alfred thought about it for a second. The movie… It was awful. No need to sugarcoat it. Alfred wasn’t  _ enjoying _ it, which was his initial idea for taking Kiku here in the first place; he thought that they’d  _ both _ love it. The only good things that had come out of the current situation was A. the food and B. being there with Kiku and even getting to hold his hand, as disgustingly cheesy as that sounded. They had the food. They had each other. And they could take that to go. On the other hand… He  _ had _ already paid for their tickets and he didn’t have anything else really planned because the movie was going to take up the evening… Ah, well. It was Artie’s money and they could make it up as they went along. How bad could it be? It’d be better than staying at the movie, that was for sure. 

“ _ Eeeeh _ …” he started, playing it down in case Kiku wanted to stay. But the look that flashed in his date’s eyes said that he clearly didn’t. “No. Whattaya say we blow this popsicle stand?” Alfred proposed. 

“Sure,” Kiku agreed, letting a small smile show. That was all the encouragement Alfred needed before twisting the key and peeling out with a screech in true greaser style. 

It also gave him an excuse to wipe his sweaty hand on his pants. So bonus, there. 

 

Alfred rolled down all the windows down, making their hair whip around crazily as he sped down the highway just outside of town where the drive-in was. The nighttime air was cold and nippy, but it made Kiku lean subtly, maybe subconsciously, closer to him for warmth, so it was more than worth it. Alfred offered Kiku his hand to take once more. His heart soared when he did, the two of their hands resting together on the middle console with Kiku leaning lightly on his arm. 

Alfred honestly couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this genuinely content. 

Probably sometime when he’d been with Kiku. 

“Tunes?” Alfred had to shout over the rush of the wind. Kiku nodded his assent and Alfred, balancing the steering wheel with his knees, flipped on whatever radio station Arthur had it set on and cranked it. 

Rock music blasted from the speakers, the growl of the engine and the music their fanfare announcing their arrival out to the town. Electric guitars and drums instead of trumpets and a parade of horses the difference between a ragtag couple of punks and a pair of princes. Alfred was snapped out of his almost delirious haze of happiness by Kiku tapping on his shoulder to get his attention over the noise. Alfred turned the music down to hear him. “Hmm?” 

“Where are we going?” Kiku asked breathily. Alfred laughed. 

“I have absolutely no idea! Where do you wanna go?” he questioned. 

“I’m not sure… Maybe the bowling alley? Or the skating rink?” he suggested hesitantly. Alfred nodded enthusiastically. 

“Why not all of the above?” Alfred’s manic grin must have been infectious because Kiku was struggling to fight it off. 

The bowling alley was closer, so Alfred took Kiku there first. Getting out of the car was honestly the hardest part-- he had to let go of Kiku and at least try to put on a persona as if they weren’t there as a couple. 

It was the regular drill: pay for the lane, shove the dorky shoes on, find a bowling ball that could be picked up and that you wouldn’t get your fingers stuck in, and let the destruction of pin formations begin. 

The only problem was the objective to destroy the pin formations. 

Alfred F. Jones was great at a lot of things. Alfred F. Jones was not, however, great at the sport of bowling. The only consolation was that Honda Kiku had never  _ been _ bowling before, so by default was only just a little bit better than Alfred.

After a total of three turns with a score adding up to exactly 0 because the ball never failed to go into the gutter at some point on its journey down the polished wooden strip, Alfred managed to clip some of the pins on the end. Three whole pins more than what had been knocked down every other time. Alfred shouted his victory into the sky, earning himself a disapproving glare from every other person besides Kiku in the bowling alley (which was a total of maybe 6-7 old potbellied bowling regulars playing a game over pizza, nachos, and beer cans). Alfred didn’t care. Now he was only 6 behind Kiku! “Good job, Alfred!” Kiku encouraged, feebly accepting Al’s massive high five. 

“Haha! Thanks, Kiku! Your turn! Go get ‘em, tiger!” Alfred said. Kiku peeled himself from his chair to pick up his chosen ball, the weight of it dragging him down slightly. He stared down the lane with an intensity that was seldom seen in him, focused solely on knocking over the triangular configuration at the end of the lane. Alfred watched him affectionately from his own chair, leaning his cheek onto his fist. Kiku shifted the weight of the ball from both hands to the three fingers he would use to hold it, drew his arm back with some difficulty before bringing it back again to use the momentum to his advantage, and set the ball rolling.

Slowly, ever so slowly, it curved in just the perfect way to… fall into the gutter. Alfred knew the feeling. Kiku still had one more try. His ball came rolling back out the machine thing and he repeated the same process as before. Only this time, the ball went straight down the middle and knocked over every pin but one that stood stubbornly in the center. Ignoring the one pin, Alfred burst into applause. 

More disapproving looks from the old dudes, but Kiku was adorable when he was embarrassed. 

Alfred’s turn. Alfred picked up his ball, carefully judging the distance. If he could  _ just _ throw it down the middle and keep his hand steady… He could totally get a strike. He could do this. He had this. He took a deep breath in through the nose, out through the mouth. Calm. Cool. Collected. Ready for the best bowling play ever in the history of bowling. He gripped the ball in both hands, kissing the top of it for good luck. He drew his arm back for a powerful throw that would send the ball hurtling at speeds never before seen down that stupid lane. No gutter balls  _ this _ time. He brought it forward, releasing the ball with incredibly, superhero-like force. 

It… Didn’t go as planned…

The ball didn’t go down the lane, per se… It flew up into the air… And crashed against the tiles of the ceiling, raining ceiling dust/plaster/whatever-the-heck-that-stuff-was down as the tile cracked. Then, of course, what goes up must come down so… It did. And smashed back down onto the alley leaving an impressive dent right in the middle of the lane, where it sat still. 

On one hand, he didn’t get a gutter ball. 

On the other, the old guys had had plenty enough and were shouting at the two of them. The lady who was the single person on duty to bus the tables, work the concession stand/bar, and also take care of any technical difficulties was shouting at them as she grabbed for a phone. The manager of the bowling alley that looked like he’d just been woken up by the noise ran out to yell at them and claw at what little hair there was on his head. The manager pointed a pudgy finger at the chick and demanded she call the police or  _ somebody _ to  _ do something _ . She was already on it. 

Meanwhile, Alfred and Kiku stood frozen like deer in headlights until Kiku cleared his throat and tapped on Alfred’s shoulder. “Alfred-san… I think it would be in our best interest to leave… Quickly…” Kiku suggested quietly to just him. 

“Yep, right behind ya,” Alfred assured him, placing a hurrying hand on his date’s lower back as they started at a brisk walk. Kiku slapped his hand away. Then, the manager’s yelling turned up a few octaves to screaming as he scurried after them for them to stop. So, they began running. And were chased out of the bowling alley and down the street. 

 

They stopped, panting for breath in a damp, dark alley. Alfred was laughing, out of breath, shaking, and cold, but in near hysterics. Kiku was just watching him with concern. In the heat of the moment, Alfred wanted nothing more than to drag Kiku in and kiss him full on the mouth, right then and there, but he didn’t. “Well, there’s nothin’ wrong with walking to the skating rink, then,” he said through gasps for air into chilled lungs. Kiku scoffed, but he was grinning. Alfred straightened up, offering Kiku his hand, even if just for the moment. “Shall we? Or do you want me to take you back home? Some date this has been, huh?” Kiku shook his head at him.

“A date to remember, certainly.” He slid his hand into Alfred’s there in the dark for the second. “I personally can’t wait to see what happens next.”

 

The walk was long. And not really worth it. As it turned out, the skating rink would only be open for about half an hour longer. Great.  

Actually, it was pretty fantastic for even the short amount of time. They couldn’t hold hands in public, BUT neither of them were the best at skating, so what ended up happening was Kiku shuffling his wheeled feet awkwardly trying his hardest not to fall and Alfred falling on his rump like a total ditz multiple times because he kept overestimating his abilities. So, consequently, they both clung to each other quite a bit, which was nice. They steadied each other, balancing the other out. 

(Okay, that last part was mostly a lie. More often than not if one of their footing became more unsteady than it already was, it just brought the other tumbling to the hard floor too.)

Alfred, hesitantly releasing his death grip on Kiku’s sleeve, put his arms out to steady himself as he propelled himself forward some. “Hey! I think I’ve got it!” Alfred exclaimed hesitantly, moving his feet more confidently. “Kiku! Look! I’m doing it! I’m doing i--IT.” Alfred’s feet were suddenly no longer under him. 

Kiku ground to a halt next to him, looking down with concern. “Are you alright?” That was a good question. 

“I think so,” he replied. “But just in case, I think I’m gonna just lie here for a bit,” he added with a wince. 

“... Maybe we should do something else before I have to take you to a hospital,” Kiku suggested caringly. 

“Yeah… Probably…” Alfred agreed after a moment or two. He shifted to make an attempt to get back to his feet and grimaced. His tailbone was going to be so bruised in the morning… It  _ really _ hurt… Kiku offered him a helping hand. Alfred smiled and grasped it tightly. 

As it turned out, helping to pull someone to their feet worked differently when there were wheels on your feet. Kiku pulled and Alfred helped by actually trying to get up himself. Kiku got dragged forward and Alfred slipped once more backwards with a yelp. 

And that was how Kiku ended up landing directly on top of Alfred’s stomach and managed to knock all of the wind out of his lungs. And also how, in Kiku’s hurry to get up off of Alfred, his slipping, sliding wheeled feet managed to step on Alfred’s fingers. 

They left the rink relatively quickly after that. 

Choosing to, instead, stop at a diner on their way back to Arthur’s abandoned car for a milkshake. “But we already ate at the movies…?” Kiku had brought up. 

“That was  _ dinner _ ! This is some good ol’  _ dessert _ !” Alfred explained to him. 

Alfred, however, only had money left for  _ one _ chocolate milkshake. In a way, it was a bonus: it was totally more date-y to  _ share _ the milkshake. Alfred would’ve never thought of that!

The two of them sat on opposite sides of the table in a booth towards the corner of the empty shop. New hit music bubbled from a jukebox that one of the bubblegum-chewing waitressed had paid for to make her job of cleaning the checkerboard floor tiles until they shone. The milkshake piled high with whipped cream sat between them with two striped bendy straws. Alfred offered Kiku the pretty red cherry on top, but he declined, so Alfred took on the responsibility of popping it in his mouth (a serving of fruit would do him well after all the movie theater goodies). 

Kiku sipped at his straw, watching Alfred with a curious look as he worked the cherry around in his mouth. “What are you doing?” the dark-haired boy asked finally. Perfect timing too. Alfred plucked the cherry stem that he had twisted into a knot with his tongue and showed it off triumphantly. Kiku nodded, lacing his fingers together and resting his chin upon them. “Why, though?” Alfred grinned and shrugged. 

“Why not?” he asked right back. “They say it’s a skill of a good kisser, baby,” he said, jokingly seductive as he playfully puckered his lips at his date. Kiku snorted with laughter at that, shaking his head at him. 

“ _ Alfred _ ,” he sighed in amused disappointment. Alfred smirked, slurping at the milkshake. 

“What? Don’t believe me?” he challenged, wiggling his eyebrows. 

“I wouldn’t say that…” Kiku said. “But I believe it’s a safe bet to recommend that you stick to your cherry stems for practice.”

“Dude.”

Kiku grinned, poking his straw around in the milkshake. They were quiet for a time, but it wasn’t awkward as so many of their silences had been back before their feelings had been admitted. It was comfortable to be there with him, labelling the situation under a date when really it wasn’t too awfully different from two friends just hanging around. In a way they were. They were still friends, but there was a bit more to it than that now and Alfred could officially say he really liked it this way. He had forgotten about the dessert, and had been staring all starry-eyed at Kiku until the waitress walked up to ask if everything was good (as waitresses do). They assured her that it was and she stalked off back to chat with her friend who was washing dishes in the kitchen. “So…” Alfred started, pausing to suck down some milkshake. “What do ya wanna do after this?” he asked. Kiku shrugged nonchalantly. 

“It would probably be best to start by getting your brother’s car,” he observed.

“Yeah, but after tha’,” Al clarified through a mouthful of cold deliciousness. 

“What did you have in mind?”

“I have no idea… Something fun, probably,” Alfred grumbled, deep in thought. 

“We have plenty of time to think of something, I’m sure.”

“I guess… Man, I wonder what would happen if Artie’s car was towed while we were gone...?” Alfred thought aloud. 

“From what I know about Mr. Arthur, you would be in trouble, Alfred,” Kiku told him with a small smile. He tapped on the table thoughtfully with a fingernail. “Yao would probably make me pay him back the fees… Or possibly find some roundabout way of getting it back without paying a dime,” he added, staring up at the ceiling. 

“How long ago did he move out, anyway?” Alfred asked out of curiosity. Kiku thought for a moment or two.

“Maybe… A year ago? A year and a half? I don’t remember precisely,” he answered. 

“Were you ever, um, unsure about living alone like that? I mean, you’re still in high school. Isn’t it kind of crappy of him to leave like that so early?” 

“I guess if you look at it that way, but neither of us really were. I like living alone; he likes living with Ivan. When we lived together, Yao was bad-tempered because he was not with Ivan as much as he’d have liked. When Ivan  _ was _ over, neither of them wanted _ me _ there.  _ I  _ definitely didn’t want to be there. I stayed in my room a lot in general, but all of that gave me even more incentive to do so. Him moving out and me getting my own space really just seemed the best scenario for everyone,” Kiku explained. Alfred nodded. 

“Hmm… That sounds pretty different than what goes down over at my place. When Francis and Arthur aren’t being all couple-y, they’re either arguing or Francis and/or me is messing with Artie to make him mad. It’s a good time,” Alfred said, thinking fondly of his family. Kiku hummed. 

“I would like to say much the same on the topic of aggravating Yao, but… Well, firstly it would be impolite, but Yao would probably shout at me for who-knows-how-long,” Kiku stated. 

“Well, Artie yells too, but it’s pretty funny most of the time-- HEY I’VE GOT IT! I KNOW WHAT WE’RE GOING TO DO AFTER THIS!” 

 

“Alfred, are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Totally, Kiku. It’s dark now. Even if they’re still up, they won’t be able to  _ see us _ to know who it is! It’s foolproof, right?!”

“I’m not sure…”

“Do you want to get your annoying little brother on or not? C’mon, you’re a  _ greaser _ and you don’t want to spite this guy? Or, I dunno, get some revenge on those two for all the mushy couple-y junk they exposed you to?” Alfred insisted.

“It’s not like I have some deep-seeded desire to make him angry, it’s just that I kind of…  _ haven’t _ for the most part…”

“Aw, where’s your rebellious spirit?!”

“... I…?”

“DUDE, I JUST REALLY WANNA TP IVAN’S HOUSE, OKAY?! And it’s also your brother’s house, so win-win, right?” Alfred said convincingly, waving one of the freshly-bought rolls of toilet paper in front of his date. It just wouldn’t do for Kiku to  _ not _ intentionally piss off Yao at least  _ once _ . That was why he had actually delved into his own money (not Arthur’s, not Francis’,  _ his _ … That may or may not have been change that Francis or Arthur just hadn’t gotten back at some point in the past) on two large packages of nice, fluffy two-ply. Kiku sighed, but took the roll. Alfred cheered. 

They were parked about a block from Ivan and Yao’s house while they devised their battle strategy. This was the plan: they were going to drive up under the cover of the night, get out of the car, throw toilet paper all over the house and junk, get back in the car, and drive off into the night holding hands to celebrate a job well done. It was rebellion and spite in its truly grandest form. 

After the planning was over and done with, Alfred and Kiku pulled up to their target, headlights off as to not alert anyone to their whereabouts. They opened the doors, armed with their lightweight projectiles, and stepped out onto enemy territory. Alfred took a deep breath, adrenaline pumping, and grinning like a maniac. Oh, this was going to be  _ wicked _ .

The two bedroom house was dark; not a single light on to indicate the presence of anyone awake within. Potted sunflowers sat on the sleepy porch and a spiral wind spinner in the shape of a Chinese dragon hung completely still. It was quiet; not even the wind to rustle the trees. Time to get the mischief on. 

Alfred demonstrated to Kiku how this was done (Arthur and he had done it to Francis’ house once, so he was pretty much a pro). He had quite the throwing arm on him, if Alfred did say so himself. Kiku’s wasn’t bad either. Soon, white banners of butt-wiping material hung from  _ everywhere _ , the rafters, the porch railings, the small tree in the front yard,  _ everything _ . It was glorious. He felt so alive doing this next to Kiku, who looked just as excited, only more introverted-like. The both of them (okay, mostly Alfred, but…) were giggling like ornery kids as the place became more and more swamped with swaying white toilet paper. Alfred turned to his date, the same grin still stretched across his face ever since he had gotten out of the car. “ _ Dude _ , this was such a great idea!” he whisper-yelled over to him gleefully. Kiku nodded his agreement, smiling back and letting another strand of paper fly. 

But… Something felt… Off… Like it was no longer just the two of them… As if a more sinister presence was--

“Good evening,” came the poisonously cheery accented voice… From right  _ freaking _ BEHIND HIM. 

Alfred shrieked (an entirely manly shriek. Completely and wholly 100% hulking manlitude), scrambling away-- anywhere but  _ away _ \-- from the large hand that Ivan had put on his shoulder. He registered that Kiku had yelped too and had followed Alfred’s lead and panicked, but his panic was more helpful, because he actually ran in the general direction of the car… Whereas Alfred found himself getting closer to Ivan and Yao’s front doorstep.

Literally right as Alfred was making a move to switch his directions, that front door burst open with a  _ bang _ that was deafening in the more-or-less-peaceful-even-though-the-screaming-kind-of-ruined-that night. It was Yao. Alfred personally couldn’t decide which freaked him out more: the fact that the Chinese man was wielding a bo staff or that he was in nothing but his underwear. Both did a sufficient job. “HIYAAAAAH!” 

Alfred’s screaming went up about two octaves as Yao yelled and charged. The American turned on his heel, almost tripping over himself in his terrified haste.  _ Ohnoohnoohno-- _ He screeched to a halt when he came chest-to-chest with a smiling Ivan Braginsky.  _ Oh _ **_NO_ ** _ OHNOHNOOHNO _ . Alfred skirted around the danger with a composure something like that of a six-year-old at a haunted house. 

And then he was full-on Olympics-worthy sprinting for the car yelling at the top of his lungs. He threw open the drivers side and dove in… 

Landing on Kiku’s lap, who had been starting the car in preparation to make their getaway. Alfred set off the horn on the steering wheel by accident and also caused a noise of pain from Kiku. “DRIVEDRIVEDRIVEDRIVE!” Alfred screeched, clinging to Kiku instead of, you know,  _ climbing into the other seat _ . Hey, he was scared, what can ya do? Kiku obeyed and hit the gas. 

They sped off into the night as they had originally planned. The difference being Alfred holding onto Kiku like a proper damsel in distress instead of victoriously holding hands. 

 

After that, it was pretty late and time to wrap up the date, regrettably. The next stop was back to Kiku’s house. Alfred had calmed down quite considerably, but yet he sat sideways on Kiku’s lap with his arms looped around his neck while the Japanese man drove around him until he gently suggested that they switch seats about halfway there. Then, Alfred was back behind the wheel and Kiku his passenger. 

They actually did get to hold hands as they drove into the night at that point.

Alfred pulled up in front of Kiku’s house, shutting off the engine and sprinting around to Kiku’s side to open the door for him before he could open it himself. Alfred walked him to his front door. Neither of them said a word, but Alfred’s mind sure was screaming. 

Some date  _ that _ had been. Kiku probably wasn’t saying anything because there was nothing more to say; it had been awful. First the flop of the movie, then the hullabaloo at the bowling alley, then all of the hoopla at the skating rink, then the mishap of the TP-ing… All of it, it had just  _ failed _ … Alfred had had fun, but that was just him and his silliness. There was no  _ way _ that Kiku could possibly feel the same way. Their first date and  _ nothing _ had gone as planned. The fault was all on Al. 

They reached Kiku’s door and stopped on the porch in front of it, facing each other. Alfred shifted uncomfortably, rubbing at his neck, preparing himself for some obligatory, long-winded apology, but then Kiku cleared his throat. “Thank you for everything tonight… I know it did not go quite as expected… For either of us… But I had a good time,” the Jap said, almost bashfully. Alfred took a second to process the words, but then his face slowly broke into a smile. 

“Hey, same!” he exclaimed before reeling himself back in some. “Uh, can I see you again? I mean, maybe it’ll go better if there’s a next time.” Kiku gave a little half-smile at that. 

“Hai. Yes, of course,” the darker-haired boy said. 

“ _ Yes _ ! Fantastic!” Alfred cheered. Then, the two of them lapsed into comfortable, almost waiting, silence standing there in the dark with only the streetlight across the road to give any light for them to see. Some whispering voice in the back of Alfred’s mind remarked that this would be the point in a date where, if they were going to kiss, they would. Alfred was glad for the low light because he was blushing redder than a tomato. The quiet, expectant feeling carried on. “Well, uh… G’night, Kiku!” 

“Good night, Alfred,” he said with a smile. Neither of them turned around quite yet. 

“Hey, uh…” Alfred wasn’t entirely sure where he was going with that sentence. 

“Hmm?” Kiku questioned. 

“Uh… Goodbye hug? I promise not to bite,” Alfred gave a nervous little smile. Wow, that sounded stupid. Kiku didn’t respond for just long enough to make Alfred incredibly worried about how he was going to take that back smoothly… But then, Kiku gave a slow, hesitant nod. Alfred took a step forward, moving like he was approaching a dangerous animal, and carefully wrapped his arms around his date’s slender frame. 

It was pretty much the most awkward hug he’d ever had. He was scared that he’d spook Kiku, or that Kiku didn’t like it, or that he may hurt him or something if he squeezed too hard… So, his arms were basically wet noodles around Kiku, who didn’t make a move to hug him  _ back _ . BUT, it was a hug. It was progress. Progress was good. 

Or, at least that was his mindset until Kiku actually  _ did _ reach his arms up to wrap around Alfred’s waist, squeezing tighter than Alfred was, leaning his forehead against his chest. “You can hug me, you know. I am not going to break.” Kiku’s voice was quiet and shy and pretty much the most adorable thing in the history of the world and Alfred was sure that he could hear his heart leap in his chest at the words and… Alfred hugged him, all warm and snuggly. He rested his chin on the top of his head, reluctant to pull away because he knew he would have to leave when he did. He would much rather stay just like that forever, holding onto Kiku, feeling the rise and fall of his breathing, and smelling the leftover grease in his hair and the faint scent of the chilly night around them that was blocked out by each other… 

Alfred was actually the first to pull away, concerned that Kiku hadn’t out of politeness. However, looking at his face in what light there was, that didn’t seem to be the case and Alfred’s heart just about drilled its way out of his chest. “Goodnight…” Alfred cleared his throat, his voice a little higher than he’d intended it. “Uh, again,” he added with a grin. 

“Goodnight, Alfred,” Kiku wished him, with that small smile of his. Alfred could imagine the blush that must have been there. 

Alfred stood there on the porch like the lovestruck ditz that he was, even after Kiku had disappeared inside. He wasn’t entirely sure how long it took him to snap out of his content little daze, but when he did, all of the things that they’d done came rushing back in a wave of pure euphoria because they’d  _ happened _ and it had been  _ amazing _ . 

Al had his own silent celebration that must have looked like a superfan whose favorite football team had just won, but was put on mute. Then, jumping down the stairs and jogging to his car because he literally could not find it within himself to take it at a leisurely pace in his excitement, he got back into Artie’s car and drove home with the speakers blasting. 

 

The lights were on in the house when he got there, but there was no one watching and waiting for him to notice him all but skip up to the front door-- and nearly jump out of his skin when someone grabbed the back of his shirt to stop him. “Shh!” said the person that had a fistful of his clothing. “It’s just me!” Ah, Mattie. Alfred hadn’t even seen him. He wheeled on his heel to face his basically-brother. 

“ _ Dude _ !” Alfred exclaimed, but was again shushed and gestured at to keep his voice down. “Dude!” he repeated, whispering this time. “You scared the life out of me!” Matthew smiled apologetically. 

“Yeah… Sorry about that,” he said, shifting a little on his feet. 

“So what’s the big idea? Why can’t we go in and why do I have to keep my trap shut?” Alfred asked. Matthew smiled a little and nodded his head to have Alfred follow him. 

Together, the two of them, like a couple of sneaks, peered in through one of the windows to find… Oh, wouldja look at that… It was Artie and Francis.

Either they had expected Matthew (who Alfred assumed had been invited) and Alfred to get there later, were too blitzed to think of it (not entirely impossible judging by the mostly-empty bottle of wine in their general area; they actually  _ had _ had a drink on his behalf as Francis had said), or had lost track of time somewhere along the way. Whatever it was, the two of them were slow dancing (more swaying, really) in the middle of the living room to whatever record they had playing. Artie had his face buried in the Frenchman’s shoulder. Both of them with closed eyes without a care in the world except each other. Alfred felt the need to cheer them both on. ‘Yeah! Those two guys all but raised me! Look at them actually being together and getting along! I’m so proud!’. But instead he just kind of smirked because now he had some fantastic ammunition to tease Arthur with. “Neither of them noticed me walk in…” Mattie was saying. “I left them alone. I don’t think they get enough time to just  _ be together _ as they would like,” he explained. Alfred shrugged.

“Yeah, you’re probably right…” The two of them walked back to sit on the porch, leaving their older brothers to their thing.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're gettin there, kids! Over 25,000 words in!


	12. Home

“Is somebody out there…?” Francis’ voice startled both Alfred and Matthew, who were right in the middle of a murmured conversation on the porch steps. Well, it had been mumbled for a while. Mathew had asked about his night and for Alfred to tell him about his ‘girlfriend’. He barely seemed surprised at all when Alfred corrected him, nodding along as Alfred then proceeded to go on about Kiku and how wonderful and fantastic and amazing he was and how their date had gone and all of the misadventures along the way, working his way backwards from the incident at Yao and Ivan’s. He didn’t realize how much he’d raised his voice going off on a tangent about the movie. Enough for their brothers to hear, apparently.

“SHOW YOURSELF! I’LL THROTTLE YOU, PUNKS!” Arthur hollered, shoving past Francis with fists curled and teeth bared. His eyes landed on Al and Mattie and he instantly relaxed. “Alfred? Matthew? What are you two doing out here?” he asked, giving them a confused look. “How long have you been out here?”

“We didn’t wanna bother you two saps,” Alfred replied, shooting a knowing smirk at a now blushing Arthur. “I dunno… Mattie got here before me… How long has it been since I showed up?” Matthew shrugged sheepishly.

“At least 15 minutes, I think?” he guessed. Alfred turned on the lovebirds again.

“Geeze, guys. How long can you _spend_ dancing in the middle of the living room?”

“Oh, sod off, Alfred,” Arthur scoffed, smiling bashfully. “Get in here, you two, before you get pneumonia!” he ushered them along.

“You can tell I raised him,” Francis said, proudly pulling Mattie in for a sideways hug. He then recoiled a bit in surprise. “ _Mon Dieu_ , Matthieu! You’re colder than Arthur’s heart!”

“I resent that, frog.”

“Oh, _shush_ , you know I’m only joking,” Francis huffed with a half-smile over at Artie before turning his attention back to Matthew. “Come here, you silly boy, let’s get you one of the blankets out of the drier. How long have you been out there?” Matthew just shrugged, either not knowing or not wanting to worry them with telling. It didn’t matter, because Francis was already making a beeline for the laundry room.  

“Would you care for a spot of tea? Or perhaps a nice cup of hot chocolate?” Arthur offered with concern for the quiet Canadian.

“Uh, the hot chocolate sounds nice, thank you,” Matthew said.

“Anytime, lad,” Arthur told him with a smile, ruffling Matthew’s hair as he passed by to get to the kitchen. “I appreciate the both of you doing that, you know. It was very considerate of you to think of us like that,” Arthur thanked them after a hesitation.

“Thank Mattie. If he hadn’t stopped me I would’ve just barged in,” Al noted, leaning an elbow on Mattie’s shoulder.  

“Yes, I figured that much, but I thought it would be polite to include the both of you considering you were both sitting out there,” Arthur noted, banging around with the cabinets in the kitchen. Alfred blew a stray strand out of his hair poutingly and Artie shot him a grin before it dissolved back into a frustrated frown. “UGH!” he groaned, slamming another cabinet door. “WHERE’S THE BLOODY CHOCOLATE MIX?! I JUST BOUGHT S--” Francis was back with a blanket in his arms. The Frenchman nudged Arthur to the side, opened the proper cabinet, and handed him a packet with a smile and raised eyebrow. “Wha--? But?! I just _looked_ there!” Arthur spluttered.

“Of course you did, _mon cheri_ ,” Francis humored, draping the warm blanket around Matthew’s shoulders.

Alfred had chosen this as a good time to make an escape to his room with minimal questioning. “So how was your date tonight, Alfred?” Curses. Caught by Arthur. He knew that he could trust Francis and Mattie not to spill the beans or ask any hard-to-answer questions regarding his love life around Artie… But if _Artie_ was the one doing the interrogation… Well, things could get awkward pretty fast.

“It didn’t go as planned… At all… But it was really, _really_ good,” Alfred told him with a smile. Artie nodded, bringing Matthew his freshly made cup of hot chocolate and warning him that it was hot.

“What all did you get up to?” Arthur asked him.

“Well, _first_ we went to the drive-in to catch the new superhero movie, you know the one based off the comics I love?” Arthur nodded and gestured for him to go on. “My date likes those comics too, so I thought it’d be a good idea… It wasn’t. The movie was _awful_ compared to the comics. We ended up leaving about halfway through to go enjoy the rest of our night. Then… We drove back into town and went bowling. That also didn’t end well and I will leave it at that. So then we went to the skating rink. Neither of us are good at skating and it resulted in minor injuries,” Alfred emphasized this point by showing off his wounded fingers that Kiku had accidentally ran over. “We left there fairly quickly and shared a milkshake, which actually went really nice so at least we have _that_ going for us, right? Haha! Yeeah… It was during that period of time where we decided that it would be a fantastic end to a date to make a statement of teenage, wrong-side-of-the-tracks rebellion--” Arthur stopped him right there.

“Oh God. Alfred F. Jones, what did you do and will I have to pay for it and/or make an appearance in court?” He pinched the bridge of his nose, waiting for an answer, further wincing when Alfred had to think about that for a second.

“Okay, first of all, I don’t think that will be the case. Second, that was _one time_ , _Artie_.” Arthur gave him a look through his fingers. “... Okay, two and a half times… Let it go already, will ya?”

“Alfred.”

“Yeah?”

“What did you do?”

“We may have TP-d Ivan and Yao’s house…” Alfred admitted in a rush and ended it with a smile because his smile actually got him out of a surprising amount of things. Arthur sunk his head back into his hand so he wouldn’t have to look at him. One could almost see the onsetting headache; it was neat. Well, go big or go home, right? “Also, they may have caught us in the act,” Alfred informed his big brother. Artie groaned something that sounded kind of like ‘ _whyyy’_ . Not, you know, _question_ ‘why’ as in ‘why would you do that’, but a _statement of despair_ ‘why’ as in ‘what did I do to deserve this’. Big difference. Alfred would know. “ _But_ ,” Alfred added. One of the best things to do when you’re getting in trouble is to make sure that they’re in a good mood when you start telling them, _then_ you ruin that good mood, and then it is vitally important that you have a softening cushion. “I’m pretty sure that they didn’t see who it was. It was dark. _I_ could barely see _them_ , which is why they scared the living daylights out of me,” Alfred finished. Arthur took a long time to respond, just sitting there making sure that he was properly composed and reigned in.

“ _Okay_ . Okay. First of all, let’s get the diplomatic bits out of the way: Ivan Braginsky and Wang Yao are my allies. We have an agreement that we will be friends, in the same group, and be there for each other to lean on when necessary. _You_ , Alfred, are more or less considered _part_ of this group that _those two_ are _also part of_ . The question I want to ask is _why in the world would you toilet paper their house_ ? I mean, you know them, do you not? You said yourself that they might not have recognized you in the dark light. Do you have a _death wish_?” Arthur stared helplessly at Alfred who was sitting pretty uncomfortably next to Mattie, who had shed his blanket and was sipping at his hot chocolate, watching the conversation happen with interest.

“I…” Alfred started, racking his brain. “... I don’t have a good answer,” he said finally.

“As to you having a death wish or your reasoning behind this?”

“Reasoning. I can confirm that I don’t have a death wish. Dude, I was with a hot date when that happened. That would just be bad planning. And manners.”

“Alright, diplomacy and death wishes aside, do you just have some animosity against those two or…?”

“Not really. Yao’s pretty cool. When he’s not going on about how I owe him money. So occasionally. And Ivan… Well. He’s Ivan. So I don’t think there’s a very good answer to that question,” Alfred reasoned.

“Fair enough. Now, you say you were caught, but since you are sitting before me now, I’m assuming that there is a tad more to the story,” Arthur deduced.

“Yeah. We beat feet getting out of there and I took my date home and said my goodbyes.”

“Is… Is that it?” Arthur asked.

“Did you kiss the beautiful person?” Francis expanded on the question, unable to take the suspense any longer. Alfred blushed, rubbing at his neck.

“Um… Um, no. No I didn’t… But, I mean… We hugged,” he managed to cough out, unable to hold any of their gazes.

“Ah, look at the boy! Come here, let Big Brother Francis hug you! No need to be embarrassed! Honestly, I’ve done _much_ more on a first date then hug the lovely. Why, the first time Arthur and I went on a date we--”

“ _OKAY_ , Francis. Not embarrassed anymore. I’m good. No need for you to share _anymore of that story_ ,” Alfred interjected. Arthur slugged Francis on the shoulder unhappily.

“ _He meant_ ,” Al’s big brother said, shooting a glare at his lover. “That we kissed on our first date,” he explained.

“Oh, it was more than _one_ kiss. _Honhon_ , your brother had burn from my stubble on his pretty little chin for at least a week. _That_ was entertaining to see him try to explain,” Francis felt the need to correct. Arthur whacked him upside the head as he laughed. Matthew silently giggled into his mug while Alfred awkwardly forced a chuckle so he wouldn’t be left out.

“Yeah, that’s great and all. Glad we had this talk, but I think I’m gonna go hit the hay.” Francis cackled some more, scooping up his wine glass and taking a long, savoring drink from it. “Ah, _bonne nuit_ , _mon ami_. Sleep well.” Artie followed his example, but felt the need for more alcohol than that if he was going to be tolerating Francis, so he just grabbed the bottle and took a deep swig from it, keeping it close afterwards.

“G’night, Alfie. Glad you had a good evening,” he sighed, giving him an apologetic look.

“Night, guys,” Al said, giving a wave to include all of them before scurrying to his room and diving under the covers…

He then remembered to put on PJs and turn off the light.

 

He was just able to doze off from his mind buzzing as it reviewed all of the day’s events… And then the phone rang. At first when he snapped awake all drowsy, he was about 67% sure that it had just been a part of those weird mostly-asleep dreams, but then it rang again. He shot to his feet and grabbed the phone on his dresser, praying that it hadn’t woken anybody. Of course, it was kind of stupid to assume with no doubt in his mind who it would be, but he did. And he was right. “Hello?” Al whispered loudly into the phone.

“Alfred?”

“Yep,” he confirmed, rubbing at his eyes.

“Did I wake you?”

“S’okay. Just hope you didn’t wake anyone _else_ ,” he chuckled sleepily. “Wassup, Kiku?” There was a pause and when Kiku spoke again, Al could picture the smile that went with his words. Al wondered if Kiku could picture his that was now plastered to his face from just hearing his voice.

“You owe me. Big time.”

“Hmm? What happened?”

“Yao called,” Kiku said. Alfred coughed.

“And?! What did he say?!”

“Mostly angry Chinese ranting about how he and Ivan would have to clean up the mess. He _did_ ask if I had heard any word about who may have done this, because Ivan got close enough to one of ‘hooligans’ to find the person strangely familiar, but wasn’t able to put his finger on _who_ as it was so dark…”

“What did you say?!”

“I covered for you, of course. I said I had no idea who would have done it or why,” Kiku said.

“So… I owe you… Why?”

“Are you kidding? Have you seen Yao angry? You think _Ivan_ would be the one you have to worry about, which is not untrue, but _Yao_ ? Yao will have you on the ground strangling you with your own long hair before Ivan could even get around to choosing a weapon. What if he’d _known_ and was _testing me_? It would not be out of character for him!” Kiku hissed. Alfred chuckled, flopping back down on his bed and staring up at the ceiling as he held the phone to his face.

“Alright, alright. I owe you one. Got anything in mind?” There was a pause of thinking on those words from both sides.

“Ah, no. Nothing in particular, but I may just use that to my advantage at a later date,” Kiku decided finally.

“You mean… On a later _calendar_ date or a later _date_ date?” Alfred asked with a grin. Kiku coughed on a short chuckle.

“Whichever comes first.” Alfred grinned wider at that. That worked. That worked perfectly fine…

Neither of them were talking, but Al didn’t want to hang up.

“So… Since you’ve got me on the phone… What’s new?” Alfred decided to ask finally.

“Besides the Yao thing? Nothing, really… You?” Alfred thought for a moment or two. He told Kiku everything; from Mattie scaring him to Francis and Arthur dancing to being asked about the date. In the end, he was so long-winded about retelling everything in the best way possible, that when he glanced over at the clock he was almost startled to see how much time had passed. Almost. He was too sleepy to care… And yet just talking with Kiku over the phone had him mostly wide awake. Mostly. He was still sleepy, which was obvious in his laugh.

“Ya know,” Alfred said. “It’s funny you called when you did. I mean, I had _just_ gotten to sleep after having so much trouble.”

“Sorry about that…” Kiku coughed awkwardly.

“No, no! The thing is, I was having trouble drifting off ‘cause I couldn’t get _you_ off my mind and what d’ you know? You call me as soon as I get too tired to stand it! Ha! Now, I dunno if I’ll be able to go _back_ to sleep!” he giggled. Kiku was silent for a bit, having no idea how to respond to that.

“I… I’m sorry…?”

“Nah, it’s fine. I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather have on my mind,” he smiled cheesily. Kiku scoffed at that.

“ _Please_ . I think maybe you _should_ try to get some rest; you’re sounding delirious.”

“Hmm… Maybe…” A pause.

“... Goodnight, Alfred,” Kiku sighed.

“G’night, Kiks.” A click from the other side and a dial tone sounded in his ear. Alfred smiled to himself, hanging the phone up. With a tired, happy yawn, he snuggled back down into his blankets.

 

Well, he had been right about one thing: he wasn’t going to be able to go back go sleep. He just kind of lied there staring up at the ceiling, trying to close his eyes, count sheep, and whatever else, but no. Nothing. Nada. He was tired and all, but there was no way he was going back to sleep. It was a pretty frustrating feeling.

Then, it hit him. All he needed was a good ol’ midnight snack and _then_ he’d be _plenty_ tuckered out to be able to go back to bed.

And so, he crawled out of bed in just his underwear and crept out of his room, wincing at every squeak of the floor boards that chilled his bare feet. Feeling his way along in the dark down the hall, he was just praying that he wouldn’t stub his toe on anything. _Let’s see… A left will take me to the living room, a right will take me to the kitche--_ His thought process was interrupted by him smacking face-first into a wall. _Or I could find a light. Lights are nice._ He frowned, rubbing at his forehead. He flicked on the kitchen light, holding his breath as if it would help _not_ wake anyone up. He squinted in the sudden light, surveying his surroundings and then proceeded to mentally smack himself.

He should have _known_ that the light would immediately flood into the living room… and consequently right into Mattie’s peacefully-sleeping eyes. His brother was in his usual sleeping position on his usual couch, wrapped in a nest of blankets and hair strewn across the three pillows cushioning his head. Al just _waited_ for him to stir unhappily, but he didn’t. Even breathing. Inhaling in through the nose and out with a tiny puff of the mouth. Cuddling his polar bear Kumajiro to his chest. _Okay_. Okay, good. He didn’t wake him up.

Moving on.

Al knew where Artie kept the chocolate in an attempt to hide it from him. He just had to climb to it… It was the typical parental trick, Arthur put the chocolate in the back of the top cabinet, something that he had found out a long time ago, but Arthur had yet to figure that out because he had yet to take enough to be noticeable. That, or he assumed that Francis was the one doing it. More likely the latter; Al wasn’t good with just taking a little bit.

Hoisting himself up onto the counter, Al had to take a second to steady himself. Raising from his knee to stand up, his legs were all wobbly from the thought of falling backwards. Carefully, _carefully_ opening the cabinet and maneuvering around it should have been counted as a thrill-seeker’s sport. Yes, skydiving is nerve-wracking and all, but you’ve got a _parachute_ . Now, climbing on counters to get into hidden chocolate stashes had almost _double_ the threat because not _only_ could you fall, but you could get _caught_.  

Bingo. Alfred grabbed for the bag of assorted chocolate candies, at the same time as he shifted his foot slightly as he leaned forward. At the same time as he learned that there was some spilled dish soap on the counter as well. At the same time as his foot slipped on it and he no longer had his balance.

The normal moment of panic when one knows that they’re going to fall, but there’s nothing they can do to stop it occurred as Alfred flailed helplessly.

At least he managed to twist around to land _forwards_ and catch himself some as he came tumbling down with a loud crash. He also managed to grab a corner of the chocolate bag, which was less good as it came falling down with him, chocolate scattering everywhere as Alfred lied on the ground in shock and pain.

He waited for Artie or Francis to come running in to find the scene with all its incriminating evidence. They didn’t. But he’d woken them up. “Al,” called Arthur’s sleep-laced voice. Alfred cleared his throat.

“Yeah?”

“Go to bed. What’ve I told you time and time again about midnight snacking?”

“That it’s not good for me…” Alfred answered. He picked himself up off the floor and looked around at the mess… And caught Mattie’s eye. His brother glared at him, not at all pleased to be awoken, before he pulled a blanket over his head with a grumble. “Hey, sorry, Mattie,” Alfred whisper-yelled. His only reply was some more grumbling and a sock getting thrown at him.

 

Basically, Alfred went to bed pretty late and didn’t sleep all that great… Which is why in the morning when he woke up to face the day… It was no longer _morning_ . It was also not so much his _choice_ to wake up and face the not-morning. “Al… Al… Wake up,” said a soft voice from beside him as a hand gently shook him awake. Alfred groaned, his closed eyes registering that there was sunlight, which wasn’t something he was quite ready to deal with yet, so he pulled a pillow onto his face. “I’m sorry, but… I think you may want to get up.”

“No,” was Alfred’s simple answer. No he did not.

“C’mon, there’s someone here to see you, so how about--”

“Heheh. _A-boot_ ,” Alfred interrupted to make fun of his brother.

“ _So how about_ you get up and say hello, eh?”

“Who ‘s it?”

“Get up and see for yourself.” Both internally and externally groaning, Alfred reluctantly pulled the pillow from his face and sat up in bed, blinking at the daylight. Then, he had to blink again, because he thought he might be seeing things.

There was Kiku, standing in the doorway in his leather jacket looking like he wanted nothing more than to disappear, even that much he could see without his glasses. “K-Kiku!” Alfred gasped, suddenly very awake. He hesitated just enough to fumble on his glasses, sharpening his vision to confirm that, _yes_ , it was in fact the one and only Honda Kiku before stumbling out of bed _totally_ not tripping over his blankets as he did. He paused to stretch and grin widely at the dark-haired boy. “Good morning!” he greeted cheerfully. Geeze, if just having Kiku around would make him this bright-eyed and bushy-tailed when he’d just rolled out of bed he definitely should more often.

“Uh, good morning to you as well, Alfred…” Kiku replied tersely, leaning away some but accepting an awkward side-hug. It was about this time that Alfred became aware that he was wearing nothing but star spangled American flag boxers.

The both of them scooted apart relatively quickly, not entirely sure what to do or say first. Mattie, who was leaning against the doorframe, shook his head at them and left them alone to their blank staring at each other. Alfred, coughing to fill the quiet, scuttled backwards to flop back down on his bed and as casually as possible pull on his blanket (that coincidentally matched his underwear) around him toga-style. Maybe if he just _ignored_ the fact that his face felt like it was going to melt off from blushing everything would magically be more convenient. “So…” Alfred said in the manner of a conversation starter, crossing his legs. “What brings you here this fine morning?” Kiku realized he was still frozen to the spot, snapping out of it with a shake of his head to clear it.

“Oh… Oh, right,” he cleared his throat in an attempt to get back on task. “I called this morning to see about the possibility of hanging out today,” Kiku tried to explain, finding it difficult to look Alfred in the eyes without blushing again. Alfred could sympathize. His boxers matched his blanket, for Pete’s sake. “Matthew-san answered it and said that you were still asleep… but that if I wished, then yes, I could come over… I apologize… I-I thought maybe you would be awake…?” Kiku shrugged helplessly.

“‘S okay, Kiku. I should be the one apologizing--”

“You were _asleep_ ,” Kiku reminded him. Alfred waved it off.

“Not a bad way to start a day,” he grinned and Kiku looked away again, but he couldn’t hide the smile. “Nah, I’m totally psyched that you’re here! Artie is at work, so that won’t be a problem and Francis is…” Well, Alfred didn’t really know. “Hey, Mattie!”

“Eh? What is it?”

“Where’s France-y Pants?”

“I think he’s off doing some paperwork back in his office,” Matthew said, sounding about 94% sure. By ‘office’, he didn’t mean that Francis had an actual _office_ , like at a business place or something. No, Francis just had a designated room for actual work, keeping a hold of documents, and making important sophisticated-like phone calls back at his place.

Being a soc, like Francis was, came with the typical bit of sitting on generations of some pretty sweet cash. Of course, he still had to _work_ . Not like Artie did with his job at the malt shop where he had to wear a ridiculous bubblegum pink uniform and striped hat. You see, Francis and his family before him owned a vineyard back in, you guessed it, France. Not some petite, humble little grape farm either. No, it was _row_ after _row_ of healthy grapevines that were harvested and made into ‘only the finest French wine’.

Francis and Matthew didn’t live in their vineyard-overlooking estate in France anymore, obviously. They still owned the place, though, and hired people to do all the heavy-lifting. Francis just had a whole bunch of paperwork to sort through and whatnot as well as keep up-to-date with the goings-on of it mostly via phone calls.

“So, neither of them seem like they’re going to be a problem, yay!” Alfred concluded for Kiku. Kiku nodded thoughtfully.

“What about Matthew?” he asked. Al leaned back against the wall, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Why? Planning on doing something you don’t want anyone around for?” It could’ve been taken in any number of ways, which was exactly the point. Kiku smacked his arm lightly.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he scolded, still adorably red in the face.

“I dunno if he has any plans… I’ll ask. HEY MATTIE!”

“What?”

“You planning on doing anything today?”

“... I _can_ leave and give you two some privacy, if that’s what you’re getting at…?”

“Nah, it’s cool! Kiku just wanted to know!” Alfred called back to his brother in the other room in explanation.

“Don’t bring me into this!” Kiku hissed, burying his face into his hands. “He’s going to get the wrong idea!” he fretted. He really was too darn cute. And too far away; still standing on the side of the bed.

Alfred endeavored to fix that.

He scooped Kiku up and dragged him in for the snuggliest, tooth-rottingly sweet hug the world had ever seen, giving a quick smooch to the top of his head. Kiku spluttered and pushed a bit in protest, but Alfred made sure that, should he want to make an exit, it was plenty an option. It just wasn’t one that Kiku chose to take, which made Alfred’s heart all the happier. “I’m glad you came over…” Alfred shyly murmured into Kiku’s hair.

“I…” Kiku trailed off, was silent for about a millisecond, and then growled something in Japanese, undoubtedly a curse that would make any nun in a 10 mile radius sense the disturbance in the holy ether and raise a ruler to smack the offender’s knuckles. Needless to say, the sudden change startled Alfred.

“What? What is it?” Al asked worriedly as Kiku all but barrel-rolled off the bed, power-walking for the door with a hand clapped over his face. No answer. Al followed him as he made a beeline for the bathroom. Was he going to puke? Wait, Al remembered to shower, right?

But, no, puking was not, in fact, the case.  

What the case actually _was_ became very apparent when Kiku removed his now blood-covered hand from his nose to grab a wad of toilet paper to staunch the flow. A nosebleed.

Al gave a silent kudos to himself for the case _not_ being repulsing his significant other to the point of hurling.

Alfred leaned against the counter as Kiku tilted his head back. “Does this just… randomly happen… often?” he asked curiously. Kiku gave a small shrug.

“I-I would not say _often_. It is just… Occasionally, if I am to blush hard enough, it will cause it, but other than that… Not really…” Kiku explained quietly.

“Woah! D-Did _I_ cause that, then?” Alfred exclaimed in amazement and wonder. Kiku didn’t meet his eyes as he gave his answer.

“Yes.”

“Sorry about that, dude... WHY DO I FIND THIS REALLY COOL, THOUGH?”

“... That is a good question.”

“NO, BUT SERIOUSLY! _I’M_ THE ONE WHO MADE YOU BLUSH SO HARD YOU HAD A _NOSEBLEED_? IT’S TOTALLY LIKE SOME SORT OF SUPERPOWER OR SOMETHING!”

“Not really, no.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Kiku assured him. “Mostly,” Kiku felt the need to add. Alfred rolled his eyes, playfully nudging his friend.

“I’ll take it as a compliment, then.” They lapsed into a comfortable, couple-y silence as Kiku did everything in his power to stop the blood. “Did you...  Have any plans for today, though? ‘Cause I don’t…” Alfred said. Kiku shrugged, embarrassed.

“Ah, no… I don’t, actually… Anything is fine, I suppose...?”

“Well, what on Earth could us rebellious teenagers get up to?” Alfred prompted, hopping up on the countertop to think. With elbows resting on his knees and chin in his hands, he just gazed at Kiku who yielded no answers. “Oh, c’mon! This is America! The day has only just begun, we’ve got young blood coursing through our veins! We could do anything under the Sun!” Alfred spread his arms wide for emphasis before slumping back down to his previous posture. “Of course… There’s always the matter of, ya know, _money_ that we don’t really have. And I don’t have a car; Arthur took his to work… But that just means we’ve got to get creative!” Alfred hopped up, walking around the small space to get the ideas a-flowing.

“What were you planning on doing before I arrived?” Kiku asked to try to be helpful.

“Sleep. Watch TV in my underwear with Mattie the whole day. Eat Artie out of house and home. Not a whole bunch, Kiks,” Alfred summarized. “But that’s all different now! Now _you’re_ here and the possibilities are _endless_!”

“Endless, yet limited within your financial boundaries, curfew, and capability of walking or finding other modes of transportation,” Kiku reminded him.

“Gee, thanks.”

“It is only the truth.”

“Well! Think of all the options! We could, uh… We could… Hmm…” Alfred went quiet, then snapped his fingers. “We could bake a cake! I think Arthur bought some cake mix recently…?” Al waved the idea away. “Nah… BUT it is filed under options. We could walk somewhere, of course. Somewhere, you know, that doesn’t cost money. There’s not a whole awful lot of that around here, but I’m sure we could find something! Okay, so we’ve got baking, finding somewhere to go... LET’S GO CLIMB A TREE!”

“Why?”

“WHY NOT?!” Alfred was about halfway out the door when Kiku tapped him on the shoulder. Al gave him a questioning look. Kiku looked down in reply. Right. Pants. A shirt was optional for tree-climbing, but it would probably be best if he at least had on some jeans.

He wriggled on a pair of jeans, attempting to shove some shoes on his feet at the same time (and failing, so he had to slow down and take it one article of clothing at a time).

Newly decked out in a plain white shirt under his favorite bomber jacket, jeans, and tennis shoes, Alfred F. Jones deemed himself ready to step outside into the cool, brisk air. Now, to find a tree.

Kiku followed close behind him, hugging his jacket around himself. They didn’t actually _have_ any trees in their yard, _but_ they found a nice climbing tree down the road. Alfred grabbed hold of the branch closest to the ground (that was still a decent distance above his head) and with a whole lot of upper body strength and kicking of his legs, he hoisted himself up onto it, hugging the thing before he believed he was not going to tumble off the moment he loosened his grip. “Will you be joining me?” Alfred asked Kiku, who was looking up at him with mild concern in his eyes from the ground.

“I think it would be better if I did not, but I’ll stand here and watch you,” Kiku decided, huddling down some more into the worn black leather of his jacket. Alfred nodded his understanding and moved to climb higher.

Wow, this was actually a bit harder than it looked… He was maybe about ten feet off the ground, four branches up, when he heard it. A crack.

But the branch didn’t break. Alfred still didn’t feel much motivation to move. Kiku called up to him to be careful. “It’s fine! It’s fine! I think I’m gonna come back down now… This isn’t all it’s cracked up to be…” Alfred wisely decided. He grasped at the branch that would help him to get down.

Wow, this was _way_ different than getting up here in the first place…

“Am I going to have to call the fire department?” Kiku joked. Alfred gave him a look.

“ _Please_ . I _assure_ you. I got up here; I can get down.” With shaking legs, he made a move to do just that.

Well, in a sense, he wasn’t _wrong_.

The branch snapped. And Alfred fell, landing hard. Which, naturally, caused all of the air to rush out of his lungs. As he struggled to get it _back_ , Kiku rushed over to him, looking him over for injuries to make sure he was actually okay. “What about a movie?” the Japanese boy suggested as soon as Alfred was breathing normally. Alfred nodded. Yeah. Much better idea. He helped him to his feet. Alfred indignantly brushed himself off as they began the walk of shame back to the house. “Was… Was there even a particular point to that?” Kiku asked.

“Seemed like a fun idea at the time, I dunno… Guess I just wanted t’ show that we can find stuff to do and that I’m not a crappy date…? I mean, I don’t want you to be bored…” Alfred winced. Kiku put a hand on his arm.

“I don’t think I could ever be bored around you.” Alfred grinned at the ground, nudging Kiku playfully with his shoulder.

 

Matthew was the master of the TV when the two arrived back at the house. He looked up at them over his round glasses as they walked in not ten minutes later, Alfred now speckled with grass, leaves, and the occasional twig. “Did you… Did you actually try to climb a tree?” Matthew asked them.

“‘Try’ being the key word,” Kiku informed him. Matthew nodded.

“I thought you were speaking in euphemisms or something,” he admitted, shrugging.

Matthew ignored them, pretended that they weren’t there silently waiting. He was pretty good at it, but eventually he sighed and looked over the two of them. “Can I help you?” he asked. Alfred gave a slow, drawn-out shrug.

“I dunno… We don’t want to bother you or anything…” he said, feigning reluctance at asking him if he’d put something on. With a silent sigh, Matthew just shook his head.

“You’re not. What would you like, eh?”

“Could we watch a show? Pleaseplease _pleeeease_ , Mattie! You can hang out with us! You can even pick out the show if you want!” Alfred begged his brother. Matthew sighed, but forced a smile. Al really didn’t blame him. He didn’t believe there was a soul in the world that would _enjoy_ playing the third person in the room with a couple. Matthew nodded. “THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU!” Alfred cried out in joy. Matthew waved him off.

“You guys go ahead and choose the channel. I don’t know what I would like to watch…”

“You’re the best, bro!” Alfred reminded him as he caught the remote that was gently tossed in his direction. It didn’t take long for Al to find exactly the channel that would be perfect… Meaning, there was nothing really on so he just chose one at random with high hopes that something _would_ turn up worth their time.

So they talked some about nothing of import, the television blubbering on as background noise. Just talking. Alfred personally loved hearing Kiku talk; couldn’t get enough of it. Maybe it was because of how quiet and reserved he was, it was fantastic to hear him speak his thoughts. Maybe it was because of his accent and that funny little way that he pronounced ‘l’s as ‘r’s. Maybe it was just that he was Kiku. Maybe it was just because Alfred was a smitten sap.

It was nice. Everything was just _nice_. School was going well enough, his family of four was getting on dandy, Honda Kiku had agreed to going on a date with him and was even willing to be in his presence afterwards. He’d woken up to Honda Kiku there to see him bright and early in the not-morning.

And then there was always the fact that he was laid back on a lazy Sunday on a comfy couch casually chatting with Kiku who he’d gotten to lie down beside him, head on Al’s shoulder. Their murmurs slowly lapsed into silence where they bothered to give half a mind to the junk on the TV, only broken by Alfred occasionally taking the opportunity to be annoying and poking at Kiku’s cheek or something of the nature, which earned him a half-hearted push (however, one time it turned into a playful shoving match and ended when Al accidentally knocked his date onto the floor). It was peaceful. Al didn’t want it to ever end.

So of course he managed to doze off.

He honestly didn’t know for how long, either.  

When he woke up to Kiku asleep on his chest, though, he couldn’t complain. One of the things that Alfred considered a fatal flaw was that he never failed to be a sleep-cuddler, so he wasn’t exactly surprised that he was hugging the Japanese boy to him… _But_ that Kiku was holding him back was a different story altogether.

Al was caught between blushing like crazy and smiling just as bad, but it was such a good feeling. He ran a hand through Kiku’s hair with a featherlight touch as he leaned up a tiny bit to press a chaste kiss to his hairline, careful not to wake him.

So naturally, Kiku stirred, blinking awake to look up at him, too relaxed and sleepy to be embarrassed or to dart. Alfred grinned down at him, a hand still cupping the side of his face. God, he had never wanted to kiss someone more than he did at that moment as he ran a thumb across Kiku’s cheek.

But he didn’t, even as he pressed their foreheads together affectionately. “Have a nice nap?” Alfred whispered, closing his eyes because he was about 89% sure his heart would burst if he looked him in those pretty brown eyes. Kiku breathed out a silent chuckle.

“Hai,” he said in affirmation. “Did you?”

“Mmhmm,” Alfred confirmed, cuddling Kiku just a tad bit closer before he dared to take a peek.

There was no way Kiku didn’t either hear or feel Alfred’s heart somersault in his chest at the sight of him. What, with one side of his head more mussed up than the other due to their brief (?) nap together.

Almost instinctively (or rather, before he could think enough to chicken out), he leaned up just a tad bit more to rub their noses together in an Eskimo kiss. Kiku blinked, drawing his eyebrows together in confusion for a moment or two as he looked back down at Alfred who was waiting to see his reaction… Then, he started laughing.

It was the best thing in the world, just Kiku nearly in hysterics at the bizarreness of it all, curling in on himself and burying his face into Alfred’s chest with a hand gripping the material his shirt as he struggled to pull himself back together. Alfred, who was still grinning so wide it was starting to hurt his face, let his head fall back against the couch as he chuckled at his own silliness too, Kiku’s laugh being contagious.

Then, Kiku, balancing himself on his forearms over Alfred, returned the gesture, nuzzling him almost like a kitty.

The two of them were in their own little happy bubble apart from the world until a small squeak of someone getting up from the _other_ couch reminded them… Well, that they weren’t alone.

Matthew walked out of the room, escaping from their suffocating air of sugary sweetness and also the PDA. Alfred wanted to call an apology after him, but honestly there was no way that he could even _pretend_ to be _remotely_ sorry. Alfred figured that he’d go make himself a snack and expect them to be on better behavior when he got back; his own passive aggressive way of reminding them that he was, in fact, still in the same general vicinity.

And so they did, sitting up and making themselves stay on their own respective sides of the couch and were on their _best_ behavior when Mattie returned… Surprisingly without a snack… Bathroom break, maybe? Alfred didn’t think too much of it as the three of them sat pretending to pay a lick of attention to whatever program was even on. Alfred, personally, was too busy being painfully aware of Kiku’s presence so close and yet much too far and he had a sneaking suspicion that the dark-haired greaser was watching him out of the corner of his eye too.


	13. Games

It was not a problem that Alfred and Kiku really had to face for a long time, though, because soon they found out where Mattie had gone to when he left the room. The roar of a car engine that was audible from down the street even over the TV got louder and louder as it got closer to passing their house… and then it quieted down, the noise suddenly choked off. Alfred twisted around to peer out the crack of light that was shining in through the mostly-closed curtains. He still couldn’t see who it was. It wasn’t Arthur’s car, that was for sure. And unless Francis got that ostentatious piece of scrap metal in his garage working, it definitely wasn’t Francis’ car (the actual car he  _ drove _ was new and much quieter than anything of earlier model, slinking down the road with a purr rather than a dull roar). 

Matthew stood up, grabbed his jacket off of the back of the couch, and walked out the door as if that were his cue. So of course Alfred had to hop up to investigate. 

He peered out the door in Mattie’s wake. Ah. He should have known. 

Leaning against one of the crappiest excuses for a vehicle that Alfred had ever seen was none other than Gilbert Beilschmidt. The albino twirled the keys to the monstrosity around his finger as he watched Matthew get closer with half a toothy grin on his pale face, his reddish eyes focused solely on the quiet soul approaching him…

Until Alfred jogged up beside his brother. “Hey! Where ya goin’?!” he asked the blond with a single, long curl of hair that stood out from the rest. 

“With Gil,” Mattie said simply as if hoping to get the conversation over with soon. 

“ _ Yeah _ , but  _ where _ ?” 

“... Why?”

“Because you’re like a little brother to me!” Alfred said, going for the guilt-tripping, touchy-feely angle. Worked like a charm every time. Beilschmidt wrapped a roughly playful arm around Mattie, tugging him close enough to rub his knuckles against his scalp. 

“Don’t you worry, Alfredo Sauce Jones! He’s in good hands,” Gil assured him. Alfred crossed his arms, smiling because he could see Matthew blushing out of the corner of his eye. 

“Yeah, but what are you two crazy kids gonna get up to?” he questioned, wiggling his eyebrows in a mock ‘concerned father’ role. Gilbert tipped his head back as he laughed an almost crazy, carefree laugh. Honestly, feud aside and everything, if Arthur had been the one in Al’s current position, he likely would have run Gilbert Beilschmidt from the premises. Matthew now had his face buried in his hands. 

“We were just planning on hanging out!” Matthew squeaked indignantly from between his fingers. But it was too late. Gilbert had already caught onto Alfred’s drift and there was no going back from the teasing now. 

“ _ AAAWW _ ! JUST HANGING OUT, YOU SAY? OH, BUT MATTHEW WILLIAMS, I thought we were going to get up to so much more than that,” Gilbert said, pulling Matthew closer as he proclaimed the first bit to the high heavens and seductively murmured the last bit. Matthew seemed to shrink in on himself roly poly style, his face invisible to them but his ears burning a bright scarlet. 

“Stoppit!” he half hissed, half whined. Alfred gave an exaggerated, questioning dad-ly raised eyebrow, tapping his toe.

“So, young man, what’s it going to be?” he asked in a stupidly deep voice. 

“ _ Alfred _ .” The simple word held so many empty threats, it was amazing. 

“Aww, I think we’ve embarrassed him!” Gilbert announced, pulling him in once more for a sporting side-hug. “We were really just going to hang out back at my place, though. Maybe play some cards. Whatever it takes to keep us rebellious bundles of hormones busy,” he added helpfully. 

“ _ Why did you have to phrase it like that _ ?” Matthew protested, still not taking his hands from his face. 

“Like what, birdie?” Gil asked innocently, with a nasty knowing smile. Matthew peeked through his fingers just enough to shoot a glare at the Prussian. Gilbert rolled his eyes in amusement. “We are only playing around and you know it, Matthew,” he said, nudging Al’s brother with his shoulder. “SO! Staying or going, it’s your choice.” Gilbert quirked an eyebrow at Matthew, who, with one glance towards Alfred and Kiku (who had inconspicuously walked up to lurk behind Al), nodded firmly. 

“I’m going with you. Definitely.”

“Eager much?”

“Oh, hush. Don’t flatter yourself,” Mattie groaned. 

“But what are we supposed to do while you’re gone?” Alfred complained. Matthew sighed, pausing midway through climbing into the passenger seat. 

“Did my  _ staying  _ really make a difference?” he challenged. Alfred felt rather attacked. It wasn’t  _ his _ fault that he’d forgotten Matthew was with him and Kiku. That just kind of happened sometimes. ‘Cause, you know, just look at Kiku’s face. How could he even think to look at anyone else for even a second? So, Alfred just shrugged. Then, gasped as he got a really great idea as to how to cure any boredom from lazing around the house all day that could potentially ensue, with Kiku or not. 

“Hey! Can we come too?!” 

Matthew stared at him. Alfred stared back excitedly. Matthew sighed again, opening his mouth to say something, raising his index finger as he did… at the same time that Gilbert answered him. “BUT OF COURSE! THE MORE THE MERRIER!” he shouted gleefully, tugging Alfred in for a side-hug too. Mattie lowered the finger.

 

So that was how Kiku and Alfred found themselves in the backseat of the crappy car with Gil’s music blasted to an almost deafening level to be heard over the engine. And how they both learned that Gilbert was fiercely overprotective of his crappy car. And how Alfred and Gilbert made fast friends, shouting their duet to the song passionately before Gil grudgingly shut off the car once they had arrived. “I-I don’t know if this is such a good idea…” Kiku spoke up, seeing where they were. Alfred had no clue where they were; Gil’s house he was assuming. He’d never been. 

“Why not?” Alfred asked curiously.

“WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?! THIS IS A  _ GREAT _ IDEA!” Gil protested as if the mere thought were preposterous. “Oh, but you’ll have to be quiet. My brother is home. I’m going to have to sneak you fellas in,” he told them, smiling in reassurance and giving them a thumbs up. Right. 

Gilbert Beilschmidt. Brother of Ludwig Beilschmidt. Ludwig Beilschmidt, the big, muscly enemy of his brother and, technically he guessed,  _ him _ . (And probably Matthew through that logic.) Wow, wasn’t life ironic?

Ah, he was sure it’d be fine. 

Gilbert was laying out some quick little plan to get into the house unnoticed. Al supposed he should’ve been listening, but he was sure he could just get the skinny from Kiku. 

They advanced all sneaky along the side of the house; unable to be seen from the windows. Gil put a finger to his lips to signal for them to hush before he barged into the house with his usual ruckus. Gil yelled a greeting to his brother, whose deep-voiced reply could be heard resonating from within: allowing the invaders to pinpoint his exact location. Both Kiku and Matthew surged forward purposefully to enter the dwelling. Alfred, a beat or so behind, had to be dragged along by the wrist by Kiku. They were met with the sound of more than one dog’s bark and the scuttle of claws as they came to say hello, which made for a good incentive to hurry along even more quickly. Meanwhile, Gilbert was going on and on to Ludwig, loudly proclaiming that one as exceedingly awesome as him should have a proper fanfare to announce his arrival with a laugh at his own wit. 

It gave them enough cover to slip soundlessly after Matthew through the door to the basement (AKA: Gilbert’s bedroom). 

From what Al caught a glimpse of on the above-ground, it was a nice place. Well-kept. Spick and span. He wasn’t entirely sure  _ why _ he was surprised to find that Gilbert’s personal space was  _ also _ neat and tidy. For some reason, he’d expected Gilbert the kind to be perfectly fine with living in what resembled a disaster area so long as it meant he didn’t have to clean. Matthew seemed to read his mind. “Gilbert and Ludwig both like to keep an immaculate house. I’d imagine that Ludwig learned it from Gil…” he informed them in the way that a tour guide might. 

“Learned it from Gil? What, did Gil come home one day with some ‘awesome’ cleaning virtues that his big brother decided to follow after?” Alfred joked, thinking it funny the way Matthew had chosen to word it. It made Gil seem  _ older _ than Ludwig was; as if he’d taken a part in raising  _ Ludwig _ ! Matthew raised an eyebrow. 

“Gilbert is Ludwig’s older brother,” he informed him. Wait, what? “He may be beefier, taller, and… More mature... but Gilbert is still older.” Well that was news to Alfred. 

“You forgot ‘hotter’ and ‘more awesome’,” interjected a smugly smirking white-haired Beilschmidt as he walked down the steps. Gilbert spread his arms wide and proudly. “Welcome to my humble abode. Luddy won’t bother us down here,” he said before promptly flopping down onto the nearest plush chair, slumping down into it with posture that would make Arthur cringe. 

“Sweet pad you’ve got here,” Alfred commented. And it was. Gilbert’s room was probably the biggest in the house considering he had claimed the entirety of the basement for himself and he didn’t let the opportunities pass him by. There was the obligatory bed and dresser, but the guy also had his own TV set, bookshelf, couch, two fluffy chairs, and… a bird cage? 

“I know, right?” Gilbert sighed happily. “So… Now that I’ve got you all here… Now what?” Alfred shrugged, looking around to the others for ideas. No clues there. 

“You mentioned cards before…?” Alfred suggested. Gilbert snapped his fingers and pointed Alfred out proudly. 

“Brilliant!” he exclaimed before diving for a deck of cards, holding them up triumphantly with his usual mischievous grin. “Strip poker, anyone?”

 

The four found themselves in a circle, each clutching protectively to their respective hand of cards as if it was their lifeline; as if it would decide who would live and who would die. Gilbert and Alfred were staring each other down, occasionally taking a glance down at their hands. Oh, Al didn’t have a very great hand, but  _ maybe _ … Judging by previous plays… He was right about his read on Gilbert. Or maybe he was just bluffing, just waiting for someone to pick up on it and call him out, only to be proved dead wrong. Alfred, taking a deep breath, took a chance. “Gilbert… Do you have any… Jacks?” Silence dropped around them and Alfred held his breath. Gilbert didn’t react for a second or two, only staring back at his opponent in shock. With a screeching curse, the Prussian threw 3 Jacks down between them for Alfred to take to add to his one. All four Jacks, that was another book to add to his pretty impressive pile. Alfred grinned as he arranged them to his side. Gilbert, pouting at his new hand, took his turn with an unhappy grumble, having been  _ so close _ to getting all of the Jacks, only to have them stolen away. 

So went the unforgiving game of Go Fish.

“Alfred, you wretched baby-girl-man-boy, do you have any… Queens…?”

“Go fish, dude,” Alfred snickered as Gilbert had to go draw from the waning deck. Now it was Mattie’s turn. He had just decided upon what to ask for when the basement door at the top of the stairs creaked open. 

“GET LOST, LUD,” Gilbert shouted without even looking up even as the others tensed. 

“Gilbert? Are you okay? I’ve been hearing a lot of noise from down there…” Heavy footsteps on the stairs, coming to see what on Earth was going on. 

“I’m fine, Lud!” Gilbert protested, now perked up. He gestured for the other players to  _ hide _ . All 3 of them simultaneously bolted for the closet. Alfred and Kiku beat Matthew to it. Al gave him an apologetic look before shutting the door. 

He could see through the slats. Matthew darted around like a chicken with its head cut off trying to find another satisfactory place to conceal himself before Gilbert grabbed his arm and held him still.

Ludwig appeared, eyebrows raising in surprise at the sight of Matthew. “Oh, em… Hello… Gilbert, why didn’t you tell me you had company over?” Ludwig greeted awkwardly before turning to hiss at his brother. 

“Why did  _ you _ need to know?” Gilbert challenged. Ludwig just shrugged. The guy had no idea who Matthew was. Honestly, Al wasn’t entirely sure that he would even care if he knew. What? Would he get mad that his foe’s boyfriend’s little brother who had nothing to do with the posse of greasers was hanging out with Gil? Alfred didn’t think so.  _ However _ , his foe’s little brother who  _ was _ more or less involved in said posse against him? Less likely to gain a positive reaction. Also the fact that Kiku was shoved against him hiding in a closet would be rather hard to explain… 

Speaking of…

Kiku was shoved against him in a small closet. 

Alfred looked down at him, concerned that he might be claustrophobic or something. Kiku didn’t exactly look  _ comfortable _ , but he also wasn’t  _ not _ okay, so they were good there. Kiku caught him staring down at the top of his head. Alfred offered him a smile, which Kiku returned wholeheartedly before looking away again. Al gently tipped Kiku’s chin back up to meet his eyes. ‘ _ You good? _ ’ he mouthed, just wanting to make sure. Kiku nodded. 

Wow, they were really close… And both of them were having some trouble looking away… 

They snapped out of it when Ludwig’s voice boomed once more. Alfred peered back out the little cracks to see what was going on. “Ludwig Beilschmidt,” the German introduced himself firmly, giving Matthew a handshake. 

“Matthew Williams,” Matthew replied, trying and not particularly succeeding at making his voice louder and stronger than it usually was. The two were about the same height, but Matthew still seemed pretty small. 

“Good to meet you,” Ludwig offered a small, polite smile. Then, the blond looked around at the mess of cards. “What were… You two doing?”

“Skiing, isn’t it obvious?” Gilbert retorted, rolling his eyes. “Cards, Ludwig. We were playing cards. Now, what were  _ you _ doing with Feliciano?” he countered, knowing that it was a point that would get him to leave faster. Ludwig blushed deeply. 

“Feliciano isn’t here today…” he grumbled indignantly. 

“Ah, yes, right, of course… But he  _ did _ spend the night, didn’t he?” Ludwig’s expression hardened.  Gilbert smirked. Matthew looked rather uncomfortable to be caught in the situation.

“ _ Gilbert _ ,” he growled through gritted teeth.

“He  _ did _ .  _ Didn’t he _ ?”

“Yes, you know that, BUT you know perfectly well that he just likes to sleep next to somebody,” Ludwig defended, a bright scarlet color, ready to leave. 

“Naked?” 

“Yes…” Ludwig coughed, pulling at his shirt collar. “But it wasn’t  _ like _ tha--”

“I think we’ve heard enough. Carry on, Luddy.” Ludwig couldn’t seem to leave fast enough, muttering an apology for his brother’s impudence, which Matthew assured him he was aware of and that it was alright. 

  
  


They waited until they heard the door close behind him before Al opened the closet. Both him and Kiku spilled out of it and, because of some tripping over legs, onto the floor.  

Gilbert raised an eyebrow at them before waving it off. “Well, are you going to make out on the floor now or are we going to finish our card game?” he scoffed. Alfred and Kiku made eye contact from their rather compromising-looking position. Alfred grinned up at Kiku, reaching to smooth a strand of loose hair back. Kiku blushed a deep scarlet, moving quickly to get off of him. With a laugh, Alfred picked himself up off the floor and stretched to pop his back.

“Yeah, let’s finish the card game. I need to finish kicking your guys’ backsides,” the American decided. 

 

Matthew won the card game. But Al totally came in 2nd place. 

After that, there wasn’t a whole awful lot to do. They messed around and wasted as much time as possible at Gil’s place. He brought them snacks down and everything! (And, actually, he’d had his arms so full with the fuel for the hungry teenagers that Gilbert managed to trip and fall down the stairs about as ungracefully as was capable for a human being. The snacks were more or less fine, though, so that was what mattered. Gilbert was also alright.)

However, sooner or later, they got sick of being cooped up in the basement. 

The remedy? Playing some baseball in the nearest empty lot-- the one that happened to be where Al and Kiku had first met. Kind of ironic, really, considering in both situations Alfred was wielding a bat... but under entirely different circumstances. 

It was probably the sloppiest, most make-up-some-rules-along-the-way imitation of a baseball game that Alfred had ever participated in, but he enjoyed every second of it. 

It was two against two: Alfred and Kiku versus Matthew and Gilbert… And there was no clear winner, but Alfred ran a home run and Kiku, who had struggled to hit the ball, hit a really nice one almost out of the park and Alfred was so proud of him that when he came back to Al, he hoisted the smaller boy onto his shoulders in victory. Doing so almost led to the smaller boy strangling him because Al had frightened him with the sudden change of altitude and so Kiku was holding on for dear life, but it was completely worth it. 

Needless to say, after all of the running and despite the chilled air, they were all sweaty, gross, and dog-tired. Alfred could really go for another cuddle/nap with Kiku about that time… But it was getting late and there was another issue at hand. 

As Gilbert drove them home, Alfred and Kiku were once again next to each other in the backseat. The couple had been on their best behavior the entire time, which is to say, not-couple-y. However, as the sun was getting around to setting and all of them were  _ really _ tired, Kiku was a lot more pliant about that, leaning against Al’s side sleepily, sweaty and gross as it was. It was adorable.  _ He _ was adorable…

Quite frankly, Alfred had no clue how someone could look at them like that... or napping on a couch... Or in Francis and Arthur’s case, slow-dancing in a living room as if nothing else in the world mattered but the two of them… or in Yao and Ivan’s case, being in a committed relationship for years and living together… Alfred just didn’t  _ get _ how someone could look at something like that and call it  _ disgusting _ purely because they were two guys… 

One of life’s great mysteries. 

A great mystery that showed itself  _ all the time _ with few tilting their head and questioning ‘ _ why _ ’ something like that could be disgusting, having just been brought up that it was...

… A great mystery that had literally nothing to do with the fact that he was worried about the issue at hand, which was the homework that he still had to do before the next day. Alfred let his head loll to rest on top of Kiku’s that was on his shoulder. “ _ Uuuugh _ … I still have homework to do…” he whined unhappily. 

“Alfred, you should have already had that done. Procrastination is a nasty habit, you know,” Kiku sighed back at him. 

“Yeah, I know… ‘S not gonna make me start doing it any earlier, though,” Alfred said. 

“Such is the nature of such bad habits.” Alfred could hear the smile in his words. 

“I’d ask if you’d wanna come over to help me with it, but Artie should be getting back from work soon…” Alfred felt the need to sigh too. Kiku patted him on the knee consolingly. 

“There there. I’m sure you’ll be fine. Just get it done; school is important.” Alfred chuckled at that. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

“OI, YOU TWO! NO PDA IN MY CAR!” Gilbert reminded them. 

“This isn’t PDA, Gil,” Alfred said defensively. 

“Just a warning!” Alfred rolled his eyes at the back of the albino’s chair with a smile, tempted to take Kiku’s hand just to spite him. 

“Maybe I can tell Arthur you’re just there to help me with homework?” Alfred wondered aloud, his attention back to Kiku. 

“I still don’t think he’d be incredibly satisfied with the situation,” Kiku pointed out regretfully, seeming just as reluctant to part ways. 

“Yeah, you’re probably right… But he can’t argue with  _ school _ can he?”

“I believe you underestimate the capacity of elder brothers to argue.” Alfred couldn’t disagree with that. Gilbert pulled up in front of Alfred’s house. 

“ALRIGHT WHO ALL IS GETTING OUT HERE?” Gilbert hollered just in case anybody in the vehicle couldn’t hear him. Alfred grudgingly removed himself from his seat, pausing next to the car. 

“You coming, Mattie?” he asked. Matthew shrugged, but shook his head. 

“School night. I should be getting home to Francis; I don’t see his car here,” he said. 

“You’ve still got some clothes in the hamper if you want those,” Alfred reminded him. Matthew waved it off.

“Nah, I’ll be back for it soon enough, eh?” He wasn’t wrong. Either he and/or Francis would be back before long. 

“Whatever. If I steal your hoodie it’s your own fault,” Alfred joked. Matthew smiled at his brother. 

“I’ll keep that in mind next time I’m having trouble finding it,” he said. “Oh, and Alfred?”

“Hmm?”

“You know Francis says you and Arthur can come over to our place anytime.”

“Yeah at  _ least _ one of you says that every time you show up… but you know Artie. He doesn’t approve of mooching or whatever. And, yeah, I’ll beat you to it before you can say it, I  _ know _ neither of you would consider it mooching, but Arthur is weird like that. He doesn’t have anything to do with anything that even slightly resembles his idea of charity towards him.” Of course he’d been to Francis’ place loads of times. It was a nice place. He hadn’t spent the night much, though. Francis (and Matthew but mostly Francis) had stayed for entire weekends before, because Artie didn’t mind hosting people. He couldn’t  _ stand _ being host _ ed _ . Something about them not being the wealthiest of people and not wanting any less respect or any pity because of it. Arthur could be really touchy about that. 

Alfred turned and waved an enthusiastic goodbye to Kiku, who returned the wave with a small smile. And then he raced into the house to speed through his homework and hop into bed to prepare for a week of school. 


	14. Foreshocks Before an Earthquake

The concept of a Monday was undoubtedly something created by the devil himself. Having to wake up early after only a 2 day respite from the awfulness that was  _ high school _ had to be unconstitutional. Cruel and unusual punishment, right?

It  _ was _ made slightly more bearable by the thought of getting those few glimpses at Kiku that he got during the course of a school day. Slightly. Mondays were horrible. 

But Alfred got through it alive. Somehow. And all was well. 

Same with Tuesday.

Same with Wednesday. 

Then, came Thursday. Which was also relatively uneventful for over half of it, so nothing new… Until the phone rang. Alfred was home alone, getting a responsible jump on homework… Meaning, he had his homework out and was staring at a wall, but the intention was good, so… He shot out his hand to pick it up. “Hello?”

“Alfred?” Al broke into a grin.

“Kiku!” It wasn’t the first time he’d called that week. Kiku’d called Tuesday just to talk and Alfred had called him on Wednesday needing to be coached through some homework problems… But it was still the high point of his entire day. 

“Yes, um… Look, there’s some things I need to talk to you about,” he said in a low tone as if worried that someone would overhear. His words were clipped and short. Kiku was anxious about something. That got Alfred’s attention. 

“What is it, Kiks?” 

“It’s Ludwig and Arthur…” So, not good. “They got in a bit of a fist fight today.” Even less good. “They’re both fine; hardly scuffed up. Neither of them are in any trouble with authority… But Ludwig is  _ not _ happy--”

“Woah, woah, woah. Just hold up a second. Artie was at work today. He still  _ is _ at work! Dude, the both of us depend on his crappy job at the malt shop to get us by. Artie isn’t going to  _ risk _ that by fighting unless he has a  _ really _ good reason. What  _ happened _ ?” Alfred had to stop him. 

“I don’t  _ know _ ! I don’t know. I’m sorry, but I only know that he informed Feliciano and myself about it and he was  _ angry _ …” Kiku said in a rush. Alfred ran a hand through his hair and let out a long breath. 

“Okay. So my bro and Luddy-kinz got in a tussle? So what? Does this mean anything?”

“That is yet to be decided, but I  _ do  _ think that this silly feud between our groups… I think it is going to get worse,” Kiku said shakily.

“‘Worse’, how?” 

“There was already a considerable amount of tension… and this fight today suggests that it’s only getting worse. It’s like… like foreshocks before an earthquake, I am thinking.”

“But what’s the worst that can happen? I mean, this can’t  _ really _ be  _ that big _ of a deal. I don’t even know what started it!” Alfred placated. 

“Again, I don’t know. Like you said, Arthur has his job to consider, so I don’t think  _ he _ will be the one to start anything more. And Ludwig… Ludwig is a force to be reckoned with. I have followed behind him in skirmishes before… but never something that hit quite this…” he cleared his throat. “Close to home, I suppose.” He had never cared about the people Ludwig was against before, he was trying to say. Now, there was  _ Alfred _ to change that. 

“Hey, it’s just a skirmish, now isn’t it? I’ll ask Artie about it, but I honestly don’t think there’s anything much to worry about,” Alfred reassured him. They were quiet for a bit. “Does this mean we should take extra caution  _ not _ to get caught together?” he asked.

“Hai…” Kiku replied curtly. 

“So I won’t search you out to say ‘hi’ at school, then…? Could I come over to your place tomorrow? Ya know, to make up for any missed ‘hello’s?” Alfred was smiling now. 

“Sure, of course.”

“Great! See you then!” 

And Thursday ended without further incident. Arthur confirmed the rumors on the streets about his fighting with Ludwig. He wouldn’t say why; he wanted to go to bed... And so Alfred followed suite. 

 

Alfred went over to Kiku’s house the next day, as planned. 

And Kiku came over to Alfred’s on Saturday. 

They had a brief phone conversation on Sunday. 

Nothing happened, really. No retaliation from either Ludwig or Arthur. Just quiet. 

Another week passed. Just quiet. Monotonous, boring school and whatnot with the bright flares against the dullness that were his visits with Honda Kiku. The days were getting colder with each ‘X’ marked on the calendar. 

And there was no better remedy to that than being with Kiku. Alfred had quite honestly lost track of how long it had been since the worried warning phone call, so he didn’t pay any mind to it. What he  _ did _ care to pay any mind to was that he was sitting in Kiku’s living room with a brand spanking new manga book. He’d caught up to Kiku, so when the new one came out, Kiku being the wondrous human being that he was, ordered  _ two _ copies. One for each of them. Kiku had stocked up on snacks just for the occasion. 

Alfred could hear him busying about in the kitchen, making a cup of Japanese tea for them both before they got to crack open the new edition together. It was a Saturday. Arthur had been informed that he was out on a date. The two had almost all the time in the world. 

Kiku walked back in with a cup of tea in each hand and an excited glow about him and it brought a smile to Alfred’s face. He really  _ was _ adorable. Alfred thanked him for the tea and stretched out on one end of the couch. Kiku joined him, sitting on the opposite end so that his feet were to the side of Al’s chest and Al’s feet were near his shoulder. The blond raised his eyebrows at his date before theatrically exaggerating his opening of the book from what felt like the wrong end. 

It was a pretty fantastic volume judging by those first few pages… He  _ did _ seem to be having a problem, though. Alfred found himself glancing up at Kiku more and more frequently. It couldn’t have been ten minutes in, but he found himself watching his date rather than the action that was unfolding within the pages. He found himself staring at the way Kiku’s eyes scanned across the page, at how flipping the page became a subconscious act, at his slightly parted lips that occasionally moved with the words he was reading. Kiku was too engrossed to notice. Alfred swallowed hard, forcing himself to look  _ away _ . “Hey, I think I’m gonna go crack open some snacks. Want anything?” Alfred asked, moving to get up despite how comfy he was. Kiku shook his head distractedly.

Moving helped some. So did stuffing his face with every treat he could get his hands on.

He got so into the manga that he was halfway through the entire thing before he even realized it... When reading, there is always that occasional moment of resurfacing from the fantasy world to blink around at the real world around you as if it’s an alien planet… Alfred happened to look up. 

And he met Kiku’s eyes.

Both of them quickly looked away as if it hadn’t happened… but it had… and it was right back to distraction. And unlike the first time, Alfred didn’t seem to be the only one having that problem. “Break time?” the American suggested weakly, not really wanting to move but knowing that it would probably be best. Kiku nodded his agreement. The both of them stood up, stretched, the usual pattern of shaking out any pins and needles, and brushed off snackfood crumbs. Kiku excused himself to the bathroom and Al found himself standing blankly in the middle of the living room with no rhyme or reason; half of his mind caught up in another world. 

And maybe it was just the weird floaty, detached from reality feeling that came after long spells of just reading… Maybe it was the sugar getting to his head… He didn’t really know why… But the other half of his mind was solely on Kiku.

Alfred checked the time on his watch. They had about an hour and a half before it would be getting into record-breaking amount of time spent together into the night. About a half hour before Arthur would be waiting up for him. 

Though he and reality weren’t well-acquainted at that time, an idea came to him through the foggy haze. 

When Kiku returned, Alfred’s heart was pounding stupidly fast. And he was staring. Again with the staring. And also noticing all the little details about him, like how his hair was a little askew from lying down, how the lighting reflected in his brown eyes, making them darker than they were… And his lips…  _ God _ , his lips; all small and pink. He watched how his facial expression scrunched to give him an inquisitive look. “Are you okay?” Kiku asked. Alfred nodded, not trusting his voice quite yet. Kiku sat back down on the couch, crossing his legs at the ankles, waiting for Alfred to join him. 

Al fidgeted unsurely.  _ What am I even doing? _ He tried for a smile. There, that was slightly better, even though he still looked like a blushing little kid. He held up the cardboard package that was getting warmer in his sweaty palms, taking a pocky stick for himself before tossing the rest to Kiku. 

_ Greaser cool. Greaser cool. You got this. _

Al sat back down on his side of the couch, nibbling at one end of the snack. 

His and Kiku’s gazes met again, this one hitting him like an ice dagger to the heart and a weight dropping in his stomach. Nevertheless, he made himself give a cheeky grin. “Pocky game?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows, keeping the mood light. 

Kiku was silent, just staring at him for a good five seconds at least. Frozen. 

_ Oh no. That’s probably not good. I messed up. I messed up. I messed up. _

Kiku stirred. Slowly, he grinned ear to ear, looking away and shaking his head in amusement before he could look Alfred in the eye again. “ _ Alfred _ ,” he half-sighed, half-chuckled. “Come here.” He patted the space beside him. Al hesitantly scooted a tad closer, not yet facing his date and fully expecting to be smacked upside the head. He deserved it, honestly. That was  _ so _ , _ so stupid _ … Kiku didn’t speak or move for a while longer and Alfred felt like he was dying having to wait. “Alfred, if you wanted to kiss me, you should have just  _ asked _ ,” Kiku said finally, a smile lighting up the helpful suggestion.

Alfred’s heart skipped a beat. “Can I?” he squeaked, his voice much higher than he would have liked. Kiku was blushing something awful, but he was still smiling as he stood up, pulling Alfred with him by the hand. Their fingers entwined.  _ They were so close _ . Kiku always smelled faintly of tea and cherry blossoms, though Al was never entirely sure why. He loved it, though. It was intoxicating. Alfred was having some trouble breathing properly, his heart rate through the roof. Kiku pulled him closer by the belt loops before he whispered the answer into the air between them. 

“ _ Yes _ .”

Alfred’s breath hitched in his throat and he bit back the urge to stutter out an ‘okay’... So naturally, his  _ brilliant _ mind had to make him splutter out something  _ else _ . “I-I have no clue what I’m doing, so I-I’m sorry if…” he trailed off, embarrassed at himself. Kiku smiled gently up at him, guiding one of Al’s much larger hands up to cup the black-haired boy’s cheek. 

“Neither do I,” Kiku admitted in a breath. A flicker of a grin appeared on Al’s face before the nerves snuffed it out once again. 

Running a finger across the cheek where his hand rested, Alfred angled Kiku’s face towards his. Kiku was too perfect. Al was deathly afraid that he was going to wake up and have it all be a dream, so he did it before any alarm clock could even get the chance. Slowly, carefully, and heart-pounding, Alfred leaned forward the small remaining distance and pressed his lips to Kiku’s. 

It was soft, innocent… and it was amazing. The kiss couldn’t have lasted for three seconds, but it felt endless. The cold weather wreaked havoc on skin and lips, but Kiku’s were smooth. Alfred wasn’t entirely sure at what point his eyes had fallen closed, but when he pulled back only a fraction of an inch to gasp air into his lungs, they flickered open again… only to melt his heart with the sight of a flushed Kiku. Kiku looked at him for a moment or two, eyes studying his face, before an arm came up around his neck to pull Al back in for a longer, lingering kiss. 

Al gently wrapped his arms around Kiku’s waist, pulling back to check if he was alright when he jumped at the contact, only to be kissed again. And  _ again _ . 

Alfred remembered to breathe when Kiku did. For a while, maybe a minute, they stood like that as if neither could believe what had just happened. Al was the first to smile widely, resting his forehead against Kiku’s until he smiled right back. 

Al rubbed their noses together in an Eskimo kiss, perfectly content to just  _ stay _ in that moment for eternity. Kiku was the first to remember himself, taking a step back with a sheepish smile before sitting down bonelessly on the couch, picking up his manga novel instinctively. “Well, now I’m  _ really _ going to have trouble focusing on reading,” he laughed breathlessly. Al plopped down beside him. 

“It’s certainly not going to stop me from trying,” Alfred declared, snatching up his own copy and reopening to where he left off. Kiku did the same, leaning back against him affectionately. Al gave a little peck to Kiku’s cheek. 

 

The two of them miraculously managed to get back to their reading, but not for very long, because it occurred to Al that if he stayed any longer Artie would probably be  _ real _ cranky when he showed up. Al didn’t want to go. He wanted more than anything to just stay there balancing a manga novel on his legs using one hand to turn the pages and holding Kiku’s hand with the other until either the Sun came up again or they fell asleep. 

But he couldn’t. 

And Kiku understood that as they both dragged their feet the whole way to the front door. Alfred turned to face him, having the self-control of a god by not whining like a toddler about not wanting to say goodbye yet. “Well...” he started, drawing it out as long as possible. “Good night, Kiks. Sweet dreams,” he offered him a smile. 

“And the same to you, Alfred,” Kiku said, returning the smile.

Some whispering voice in the back of Alfred’s mind remarked that this would be the point in a date where, if they were going to kiss, they would. So he lingered awkwardly, wondering if he would be the one to broach the subject. Mischief tugged up one corner of Kiku’s mouth to match the glint in his eye. He  _ knew _ . He was just going to enjoy watching Alfred flounder some more. 

Alfred was, of course, terrified that he was just reading Kiku wrong, so his deliberate step forward was really slow. Kiku didn’t make any move to dodge him, though. Mimicking the previous time, Al cupped Kiku’s cheek before kissing the boy full on the mouth. Kiku sighed happily against his lips, lazily wrapping his arms around Al’s neck, fingers toying lightly with his hair.

Al personally loved the height difference between them. Kiku had to stand on tiptoes to reach or drag him downwards. Or both. It made Alfred want to pick him up. So he did. Kiku gasped in surprise when his feet were no longer on the ground, but hooked around Al’s waist. Kiku gave him a look before grabbing a handful of his shirt and yanking him back in to kiss that amused smirk off his face, gently tugging Al’s bottom lip with his teeth when he pulled away for air. “G’night, Kiku,” Alfred whispered, grinning like an idiot. 

 

He was still grinning like an idiot the whole walk home. And when he got home. And when he passed by Arthur to smile some more into his pillow. “So I take it it went well?” Arthur’s voice asked from the door. Alfred removed the pillow from his face. 

“Yeah,” he sighed dreamily. 

“Anything in particular worth mentioning?” Arthur pressed with an amused half-smile. Alfred grinned some more, bringing his pillow back to mumble his reply into it. “What was that?” Arthur asked. 

“We kissed,” Alfred repeated, blushing bashfully. 

“Well, good for you two… Was it… Good…?” Arthur wasn’t great at discussing these things.

“Yeah,” Alfred admitted, covering his face with his pillow once more. Arthur coughed to try to hide his laugh at first, but then didn’t bother because he couldn’t stop. Alfred took off the pillow to throw it at him.

“Sorry, sorry. I don’t mean to tease,” Artie chuckled. “Oi, you should call Bonnefoy; you know he loves to hear about these kinds of things,” he speculated thoughtfully. Alfred groaned. 

“Do I  _ have _ to?” Francis was going to flip when he heard and the last thing he wanted was having to gush about his love life over the phone. Arthur shrugged. 

“No, you don’t have to. Keep him in the dark for all I care…” Arthur sighed reluctantly. “ _ But _ , he is almost as much your guardian as I am, if I am being quite honest with you…” He wasn’t wrong. The both of them were basically his parents; he just happened to live with one. But still. Alfred could recall times when Arthur got hung up at work and it had been Francis cheering him on from the stands at his middle school football games. All the times Francis’d offered his advice and made them dinner. 

_ Wow _ it seemed stupid that he had always thought that those two were just close friends, like that family friend that you always just considered part of the family. There was a little bit more to it than that. 

Al had been successfully guilt-tripped into calling up the Frenchman and he knew it. 

He grabbed up the phone, dialed the usual number, and listened to it ring. “Hello?” Francis answered on the other end. 

“Francis? Hey, it’s Al.”

“Oh,  _ bonjour _ , Alfred! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Heheh, yeah about that… So Artie wanted me to fill you in on some news…” Alfred said.

“News? What kind of news?” his voice couldn’t seem to decide whether to be worried or excited. 

“So…” Alfred cleared his throat, finding himself blushing again. “Uh, my… date… And I… Um… We kissed,” Alfred should’ve gotten a medal for getting that out. He winced upon Francis reacting exactly the way he had expected. The Frenchman gasped and gave a high-pitched cry of jubilation. Alfred could picture him pressing a hand to his heart. He said something in rapid-fire French before remembering himself. 

“ _ FÉLICITATIONS _ ,  _ MON CHOUCHOU _ ! I’m so happy for you! Tell me more! Tell me more!” Francis gushed excitedly. 

“Um… We kissed? On the lips?” Alfred wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted to hear.

“Yes, yes, I get that! But  _ details _ !”

“... What details? It was… nice?”

“ _ Yes _ , but…” he sighed, but Al knew he was smiling. “Was it a  _ French _ kiss?” 

“ _ Francis _ .”

“It’s a perfectly viable question!” 

“No, Francis. It was not a  _ French _ kiss.”

“Ah, well. You’ll get there someday, I’m sure. Don’t you worry.”

“ _ Francis _ .”

“But it was nice, you say? Oh, so cute! Was it a  _ romantic _ atmosphere when it happened? What were you two up to this lovely night, hmm?” Francis questioned. 

“Uh… We were reading together on the couch and paused for a snack break… I tried to be smooth and steal a kiss, but… That didn’t work, so I took my date’s advice and  _ asked _ instead… And then we kissed. A couple times. Then read some more. Then I had to go home. I kissed hi--  _ my date _ \-- goodnight. I picked them up ‘cause they’re small and cute. They bit my lip for it, but not, you know, a  _ painful  _ bite--” Alfred found himself rambling before Francis cut him off.

“Alfred?”

“Yeah?”

“I know that you don’t want Arthur to know who it is that you’re dating, but do you not want Monsieur Bushy Brows to know that you’re dating a  _ boy _ ?” Francis asked gently, calling out his deliberate avoidance of masculine pronouns. “I respect it if you don’t, that’s fine,  _ mon cher _ , but really, there’s no shame in it.” Alfred rubbed his neck. He honestly didn’t have a good answer.

“But won’t it narrow it down if I tell him that?” was what he ended up saying. Francis chuckled softly.

“No. It really won’t. It just changes his spectrum of guessing from girls to boys.”

“I don’t know, Francis. I honestly have no clue why. Maybe I’ll bring it up sometime. I really don’t know. I don’t  _ think _ it’ll matter to Artie…? But… I just…” Alfred didn’t know where he was going with that sentence, so he just let it trail off. 

“Alfred F. Jones, nobody is pressuring you to tell anybody anything. You’re really not obligated to at all. You’ve fallen for this person and, to me, that is all that matters about it. I can’t speak for your brother, but I want you to know that he can relate and that he’s not a bad person to talk to.” Sometimes Al forgot that Francis could be serious. 

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. Thanks, France-y Pants,” he said sincerely despite the nickname, smiling a bit. “And I kinda think that it’s not…  _ that _ … That I don’t really want to get into a conversation about with him. It’s more that if he  _ did _ know  _ that _ , he might want to know just  _ who _ it is that I’m seeing… Which raises some problems, ya know?” Alfred tried to explain, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Ah, yes. That ridiculous  _ feud _ of yours. Tell your brother to get the testosterone in check; there’s no need for these unpleasantries.  _ Especially _ if it gets in the way of  _ love _ such as this!” Francis grumbled unhappily. “Alright… Well, just call Big Brother Francis if you have anything more to share,  _ non _ ?” 

“Will do, Francis,” Alfred assured him.

“Good. Tell your brother goodnight for me,  _ oui _ ?” 

 


	15. PB & J

Nobody could say that Alfred didn’t  _ try _ .

Because he did. He really,  _ really _ did. He  _ tried _ . 

‘Tried’ being the key word. 

Success was another story. 

The deal was this: Alfred and Kiku hadn’t had a proper date where Alfred took him out since their first. They hung out often enough,  _ sure _ , but a  _ date _ ? Only that one time. That one time that had been too long ago for Alfred to stand it. He endeavored to change that. 

He also had the brilliant idea of playing the part of a hopeless romantic and busting out the creativity to find a better way to ask the boy out besides calling him or showing up on his doorstep. 

Yeah, Alfred was trying his hand at love notes.  _ Trying _ . 

It was a romantic idea. A  _ great _ idea. Poorly executed, though, Alfred decided upon reading his handiwork at his bedroom desk surrounded by at least 17 other wadded up balls of discarded rough drafts. Alfred put his head down on the table with a thud.  _ This seemed a lot easier in my mind. Just some cutesy rhyming words, sweet talking, and an invitation. That was it, but  _ then _ there was more to it than planned. _

Maybe it would just be the thought that counted?  _ Maybe _ he could get away with the sad excuse for a “love letter”? Alfred dared to sneak a peek at it again. Maybe it would seem less horrific the second time around. 

 

_ Roses are red _

_ Just like the ones I brought you _

_ Would you join me on a date? _

_ With just us two _

 

It wasn’t any better. At all. By any standard under the Sun. 

But he was going to roll with it. He could pull it off. He was  _ Alfred F _ .  _ Jones _ , for Pete’s sake! It wouldn’t work, but by sheer willpower and delusion, Alfred would  _ make _ it work. 

All he needed were some roses so that it would make some sense. 

 

It was all on a whim, virtually unplanned, and sure to be fantastic. Alfred had roses from the floral shop (that was becoming his best friend during this dating experience) with the stupid little letter tucked into the midst of the blossoms in a nice envelope. He had called ahead to ask Kiku if he wanted to go somewhere (he did!). It was going surprisingly well for an idea that he had woken up in the morning and decided to act on for no particular reason other than he  _ really _ ,  _ really  _ wanted to. 

Artie was working, so no car. Alfred  _ definitely _ wasn’t going to ask Francis to be their chaperone, because Al had no doubt in his mind that the Frenchman would be the stereotypical embarrassing parent… So he walked, eternally grateful for his leather jacket that was shielding him from the cold air, but silently regretting that he hadn’t chosen his bomber jacket which would have done a  _ better _ job. (Plus, Kiku looked  _ extremely _ adorable in the bomber jacket.) Honestly, it was getting into scarf and hat weather. Alfred just chose to deny that until it was literally  _ un _ deniable. 

Al was feeling pretty confident with himself; looking good in his leather jacket with hair slicked back some. He had roses and a love note he’d written himself. He was thinking pretty highly of himself… Until he got on Kiku’s porch and knocked on the door. Then, long before Kiku answered the door, Alfred got to say hello to his old friend: the belly butterflies. 

The feeling  _ kind of _ disappeared when the door was opened, ended by a flop that felt like all of those butterflies had chosen that precise moment to execute a triple backflip. His heart jumped with it, only to stutter in his chest when those brown eyes he adored so much met his. 

Alfred felt like such a mess.

Kiku smiled up at him anyway, opening the door wider to invite him in. “Uh, h-hey, Kiks!” Alfred said in the style of a greeting, thrusting out the flowers and note to save himself. 

“Hello, Alfred. Ah,  _ arigato _ ,” Kiku replied, stretching up on his toes about as far as he could go to give him a shy kiss on the cheek. Alfred’s heart swelled even more, almost unable to stand how breathtaking (for lack of better word) the Jap was.

Kiku looked away, spotting the envelope and picking it up with interest, giving Al a curious glance before going to open it. Alfred was blushing, his mind already swimming with the hundreds of excuses he’d need to joke it off. 

Reading it, Kiku was quiet and it was impossible to guess what he was thinking. “I know. It’s corny. I wanted to try doing something romantic…? I--” Alfred was cut off by Kiku kissing him. He was too surprised to react for a bit, but when his mind  _ did _ catch up, he kissed him back happily. 

He could feel Kiku smiling against his lips… and his shoulders shaking with silent chuckles. “Hey!” Alfred complained, grinning too. “Don’t laugh at me! I tried, okay?” Kiku patted his cheek affectionately.

“Yes you did… And it was a very sweet attempt,” Kiku assured him. 

“So… Whattaya say?” Alfred gave his most winning smile. 

“Hmm… I don’t know…” Kiku said, tapping his chin. Alfred’s face fell some. The Japanese scoffed at his gullibility. “Of course I will, Alfred,” he told Al gently, followed by a kiss to the corner of his mouth just as tender. 

“YES!” Alfred cheered, ruining the mood to a certain degree. “I’ve wanted to take you out for a while now, ya know? I was thinking that maybe we could just walk around town and, oh! I’ve got the perfect spot where we can just sit for a while! I don’t have the car, though, so that  _ might _ put a damper on things, but I don’t think so. Artie hasn’t given me any allowance this week, so I don’t have anything much, but maybe I can get us a Coke or something if we want one…? Whatever you want, Kiku. Just give me the word,” Alfred carried on enthusiastically. 

“Uh… Sure? Yes, what you said. Let’s do that. Just let me get my jacket…” 

“Yeah, you may want to bundle up some. It’s chilly out there. I was walkin’ in it!”

“Then I’ll grab a scarf,” Kiku decided. 

And then they were ready to go and face the day. Well, ready-ish. Alfred wanted nothing more than to be able to lean over and kiss the top of Kiku’s head, to hold him, to show him off to the entire world so they all could see how amazing he was, to pamper and coddle him, or just  _ whatever _ . But he couldn’t do that outside of the walls of his house. He couldn’t even hold his hand. 

He  _ could _ , but not without drawing some very unwanted attention. He  _ could _ , but not without some complications. It was something that he’d seen quite a bit of just around town; liking the same gender was not to be tolerated, which was pretty ironic considering all of the love that happened under their radar. Alfred personally wondered what would happen if the people actually  _ knew _ the severity of their own local ‘infestation’ (a term he’d heard used before in reference to somewhere in California... or something). 

So yeah, Alfred was  _ totally _ ready to take Kiku out, but pretty reluctant about having to act like he wasn’t. 

But he did anyway because he  _ was _ getting to take Kiku out on a  _ date _ . Their second official  _ date _ date. There was nothing that was going to stop them from having  _ that, _  right?

Side by side, Alfred led the way out of the rougher neighborhoods where the two of them came from towards downtown, talking and laughing in low tones. It was a pretty sleepy town in a lot of respects, but downtown was a place that had a steady stream of life supplied by the younger members of the place that weren’t  _ quite _ old enough to escape from the town’s drowsy confines. 

It was lined with small shops and a few restaurants mostly kept open by the local teenagers using them as hangouts. Alfred had plenty of fond memories of Arthur walking him to the soda shop as a kid where they would sit up on the tall, spinning chairs at the bar and order ice cream. Alfred always got the chocolatiest options the establishment had to offer. Arthur never failed to order a rootbeer whip. 

Maybe Al would take Kiku there sometime. 

But for the time being, they had other places to be. 

Alfred didn’t have  _ big _ plans,  _ but _ he had plans that he intended to execute. It was going well so far: just walking up the sidewalk, glancing into stores, and window shopping with the cars cruising up and down the street as background noise. It was a busy world; plenty to talk about. And Al adored hearing Kiku talk, hearing his opinions on the matters, just  _ Kiku _ . Alfred loved how he was one of the few that could make him laugh and he loved making him laugh, watching how Kiku would look down and away as if he were embarrassed to be seen smiling even though it was such a beautiful sight.  _ Kiku _ was such a beautiful sight, really. Well,  _ handsome _ . Alfred doubted Kiku would appreciate being referred to as ‘beautiful’ or ‘pretty’... Though it was still on Al’s bucket list to do sometime. 

It was easy to lose track of time with him, making it feel like they hadn’t spent near enough time together when so much had passed. Consequently, Alfred had no idea how long it took them to arrive at the park, only that somehow they already had. 

It was probably pretty cheesy, but the park was the planned destination. It was a nice place. There was some open space being used by kids to play football, playground equipment, paved paths to walk around the area, plenty of shade trees, and  _ tons _ of flowers that were still miraculously holding onto life in the weather.

“You wanna sit down a while?” Alfred asked his date. Kiku nodded, shrugging a ‘ _ why not _ ’. “Swings or bench?” Alfred asked, nodding to the quaint and albeit somewhat pathetic swing set and then to the direction of a park bench that was buried somewhere within the many flower beds. Wow, if Kiku had pollen allergies this whole idea would’ve been so bad… Alfred  _ really _ hoped he didn’t… 

“Uh, the bench is fine,” Kiku decided. So relative privacy it was, then. 

As they sat, Alfred had to resist the urge to cuddle Kiku to him under the pretense of warding off the cold. It  _ was _ pretty cold, after all. Kiku was huddled down into his scarf, the end of his nose bright pink. Alfred  _ then _ had to resist the urge to lean over to kiss it. They probably  _ were _ sitting a bit too close to be greaser buds just hanging out, but Alfred honestly couldn’t care less about  _ that _ . He could let that one slide. 

Alfred felt almost irrationally giddy just to be sitting there on the stupid park bench with Kiku, and it probably showed given that he was swinging his legs like an excited kindergartener. “So how’re you?” Alfred asked to start back up a conversation. He couldn’t see Kiku’s mouth because of the scarf, but he could still tell that he was smiling. 

“Good, good. And you, Alfred?”

“Hmm. I dunno…” he sighed, stretching an arm around the back of the bench behind Kiku’s shoulders. “There’s this really,  _ really _ good-lookin’ guy I’ve been hanging out with lately, so I’d have to say I’m pretty good.” He grinned over at Kiku, who looked away blushing. Again with the looking away… Alfred, for one, didn’t look away. Couldn’t. Forgetting that he wasn’t supposed to do things in public, Al reached out to lightly stroke Kiku’s chilled, flushed cheek. 

It caught his attention. He looked back, meeting Al’s eyes, his own brown ones shining. Smiling gently, Al pushed some windblown black hair our of Kiku’s face, their eyes never leaving each other’s. Alfred had never really understood the phrase ‘getting lost in someone’s eyes’ until he met Kiku. 

Still, Alfred was the first to look away with a deep sigh. He slumped to lean his head down on Kiku’s leather-clad shoulder, squeezing his eyes shut… and smiling when Kiku reached up to run a hand through his blond locks. “Are you alright?” Kiku asked quietly. Alfred nodded wordlessly, quiet for a while, just enjoying the feeling of Kiku’s fingers carding through his hair. 

“I just  _ really _ want to kiss you sometimes,” Al murmured back. Kiku’s hand halted in its rhythm for a second along with his heartbeat before he resumed mussing up Alfred’s hair. Alfred sighed again. “And it just kinda stinks that I can’t do that out here,” he said, complaining and probably sounding stupidly whiny. 

“I know; it  _ is _ unfortunate, isn’t it?” Kiku agreed. He shivered, pulling his scarf up higher. “It’s cold out here,” Kiku observed, leaning against Alfred The Personal Space Heater a bit more. “I’d suggest we get that ice cream now, but I don’t think that would help anything.” Alfred smiled down at him. 

“Well, wouldn’t want to freeze sitting here, now would we? We could probably find  _ somewhere _ else to go, or at the very least walking around’ll get the blood circulating, right?” Alfred pointed out helpfully. Kiku nodded. Alfred hopped up, offering Kiku a hand to help him up, as chivalry went. 

They were quiet as they walked, as if waiting for the other to say something. Alfred slid his hands into his jacket pockets, glancing over at Kiku pretty frequently with his rosy cheeks that were flushed from the cold, occasionally reaching up to adjust his scarf. 

And then Alfred was staring like the ditz he was. 

Staring then proceeded to lead to lightheaded daydreaming about the pretty pink lips that he knew were under that scarf. And about how they felt against his own. And about how he would like to remind himself of that  _ at that exact moment _ . 

“So where to?” Kiku asked, only half breaking him out of the trance he had him in. Alfred shrugged. 

“Where do you wanna go?” he countered, drawing a blank when it came to ideas that didn’t involve finding an excuse to lean over and kiss his date. Kiku pulled his jacket closer around himself. 

“Ugh. Out of this wind.” As nice as Kiku looked with the wind messing up his hair, Alfred could agree. It wasn’t  _ coat _ weather, but staying out in this type of wind-chilled weather  _ definitely _ wasn’t any fun. 

They were still a decent walk from downtown, maybe three-ish blocks…? So they couldn’t just take temporary refuge in a conveniently placed business. It was all law firms, little financial advice places, parking, and other drab, sparse things like that. There was no bustle here like there was downtown, no swing or beat to the street at all. 

Alfred, ever striving to be the optimistic opportunist, didn’t  _ quite _ see it that way, though. “We could always duck in there for a bit…?” Alfred nodded towards the parking garage. It wasn’t a particularly  _ big  _ place, just some convenient sort of feature to add onto the parking lot next to it. Concrete, echoey, a couple stories tall, smelled like cars, the usual deal. Kiku quirked an eyebrow. 

“Trying to get me alone, Alfred?” he didn’t sound opposed to the idea. Alfred laughed, nudging his date with his shoulder playfully. 

“Always, babe,” he grinned. Hey, Kiku had never outright protested to the pet name. Kiku scoffed, but he had already started drifting in the direction of the parking garage.

“You’re a dork, you know that?” Kiku informed him, pushing Alfred back about twice as hard to nudge him as far. 

“And you’re irresistible,” Alfred retorted in a singsong voice. 

It was dark in the parking garage, lit only by some dim, grimy lights. There weren’t even many cars parked in the place; there was hardly any use for it quite honestly and that showed in the upkeep of it. Stray pieces of garbage floated and scraped around with the whistling of the wind passing through. It was cold inside too, the only advantage was being more sheltered from the wind.

Not a place for a romantic atmosphere at all, really, but Alfred could make due. 

The two of them walked in a ways, their footsteps seeming louder as the noise bounced off the walls. It really  _ was _ pretty dark. It would be the sort of place that a person could expect to be mugged, actually, but Alfred wasn’t afraid. He was too focused on the person at his side, daring to walk closer in the lack of light. That, and he was super enormously brave too. 

They slowed to a halt on some unspoken agreement, deeming the spot good as any for committing crimes like loving the same sex. Alfred turned to face Honda Kiku, seeing the sparkle of his eyes even in the low light. 

There was a pause, a waiting quiet between them broken only by the sounds of the wind outside and the cars in the distance. The American reached out to Kiku, moving the scarf down to expose his mouth to the air. Kiku’s lips were slightly parted in waiting or anticipation or  _ whatever _ , Alfred couldn’t pinpoint it precisely. He didn’t need to, either. Alfred didn’t have to ask this time; he knew. He wasn’t sure how, but he could just  _ feel _ that the timing was right. 

Kiku did too. The both of them moved forward to push their lips together with a controlled passion. The momentum of it nudged Kiku into the wall that was behind him, but he didn’t seem to mind except for a brief hiss at the chill. Alfred parted from him, checking to make absolutely sure he was alright. Kiku huffed in annoyance at him. “Impatient?” Alfred chuckled, pecking him lightly. 

“Shut up,” Kiku laughed, pulling him closer so that they were flush together. “It’s cold; you’re warm,” he excused. Alfred wiggled his eyebrows.

“You’re pretty hot yourself, Kiku.” The Jap gave him a look for that, but kissed him anyway. 

They did that for a while, just holding each other and kissing. It was so nice, but through the happy fog on Alfred’s mind, a spark of curiosity offered an option. It  _ was  _ an option that had his tummy turning… But it was also  _ Kiku _ . 

Tentatively, Alfred traced Kiku’s bottom lip with his tongue. Kiku’s hand that was holding onto his shoulder clenched, but there was no sign of unrest, so Alfred took a chance… And stole a taste of heaven. 

Of course, immediately pulling away for the first time in a minute or two worried that he’d messed everything up. Kiku didn’t let him get far, keeping his eyes closed and Al close enough that their lips brushed against each other as they breathed. “Are you goo--” Alfred started to ask. Kiku shut him up pretty effectively with a small kiss to the area above his top lip. 

“Please stop asking that. I assure you that I will let you know if I’m not,” Kiku assured him quietly. 

“Okay…”

“Alfred.”

“Hmm?”

“Kiss me.” Al was happy to oblige. Alfred had been the one to give a nonvocal suggestion of trying something else back then, but Kiku was the one that actually initiated it properly. When Alfred paused half a second to take a breath, Kiku took the chance to slip his tongue into Alfred’s mouth. 

He was a tad surprised, sure, but not displeased. He was more than happy at the new feeling of just letting Kiku explore. If he had thought he’d felt drunk on infatuation before, he had had no  _ idea _ . 

Kiku fisted two hands in his hair to easier maneuver Al for more convenient access and Al’s knees about turned to jelly, his heart pounding a hundred miles an hour in his chest. 

Alfred finally was spurred into action, experimenting to see what would happen when he touched Kiku’s tongue with his own. Kiku made a stuttering little noise in the back of his throat, only further encouraging Al. 

He pressed Kiku back a little firmer against the wall as their tongues entwined and moved together. Their breathing was ragged as they panted for air against each other, the racket echoing off the walls. Alfred absently stroked a hand through the hair on the side of Kiku’s head, lost in anything that wasn’t him. He couldn’t smell the unpleasantness of the garage, just Kiku. He couldn’t feel the cold anymore, not really; Kiku was too warm. Oh God, and the  _ taste _ of Kiku. Alfred held his date closer at the thought, one arm wrapped around his torso and the other playing with his hair. The Japanese boy still had both hands about Al’s head, driving him just a little bit crazier with the occasional tug on his hair for Kiku to have his way with his mouth…

The sound of a couple people walking and chatting about their days reverberated off the garage walls, startling both Al and Kiku who instinctively jumped apart… But then the people got their cars and left without ever knowing that the two teens were even there. 

They still didn’t move for a while, that only changing when Alfred burst out laughing. Kiku followed suite, chuckling a little shakily. Then, the Japanese boy paused, a peculiar look on his face. “Did… Did you have peanut butter and jelly for lunch?” he asked. Alfred nodded, confused at first. Kiku nodded along with him. “Yeah… I can taste it,” he said with the weirdest look on his face. Alfred threw his head back as he laughed, hugging the boy to his chest, resting his chin on the top of his head. 

“Warmed up?” Alfred asked, helping Kiku put his scarf back in place. 

“Much better, yes,” Kiku smiled. 

Alfred got to lead him out of the garage by the hand, almost skipping out of happiness. Then, it was back to the previous drill. Back to pretending that they were nothing. 

 

The date didn’t feel near long enough. There was no possible way they could stand to leave it on a ‘not enough’ note, though that was kind of  _ hard _ . Actually, it was  _ impossible _ for it to  _ not _ be ‘not enough’, but they could do with trying their best. 

The two walked around some more until they couldn’t stand the weather any longer, despite trying to brave it and put off parting from each other for much longer than probably smart if they didn’t want to wake up with a cold. 

Alfred walked Kiku home because he turned down the offer of a piggyback ride for the rest of the way back and all too soon the two were in the familiar position of saying goodbye in Kiku’s doorway. Al leaned against the frame of the door, offering his date a smile. “Thanks for today,” Al said quietly for just the two of them. “I enjoyed it, anyway,” he added. Kiku smirked a little at him. 

“Why are you the one thanking me?” he chuckled. “I had fun. We should do it again sometime soon.”

“Can’t wait,” Alfred grinned widely, pushing away from the doorframe. He opened his arms wide as he stepped forward to make his intentions clear before he pulled Kiku into a hug, burying his face in his hair. Kiku wrapped his arms around Al’s waist to squeeze him back contentedly. 

Al pulled back enough to press a sweet kiss to the tip of Kiku’s nose. “See you soon, then?” Alfred confirmed. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Halfway there! Feel free to leave some kudos or comments if you've actually gotten this far. Also note that in most areas of the United States during the 60's, homosexual conduct (specifically sex) was not just frowned upon, but illegal. Also this story doesn't really delve into the issues of racism at the time, but these two being an interracial couple definitely would not help out their situation.


	16. Dance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why is this chapter so long? i don't know. i wrote this about a year ago, guys

Time ticked by at fluctuating intervals. It passed slow and sluggish at school and alone at home. It flew by in the blink of an eye those precious moments spent with Kiku. Time wasn’t kept track of by the days on the calendar. To Alfred, at least, it was marked by the deadlines and due dates and getting to spend time with Kiku. Whatever fell in between was unimportant. 

Well, it all  _ seemed  _ pretty unimportant until Alfred literally could not turn around at school without one thing being shoved in his face through the extensive advertising that had been done by the student council. That one thing was made perfectly crystal clear: there was a dance coming up at school.

Now normally, this would all be ignored by Alfred and sorted away in his mind as the unimportant junk in the void between  _ important _ junk. Something was different this time, though. Something that he couldn’t get to stop bugging him.  

There was a dance coming up. A dance where high schoolers escorted their sweethearts to and, as the name implied, danced the night away to whatever records had been deemed worthy. Alfred hadn’t really ever gone to one of them before… because he had never had reason to before…

He did now, though. He had Kiku. 

There  _ was _ a problem with that, however. Alfred was a guy. Kiku was also a guy. And that was the problem. Alfred couldn’t take Kiku to the dance. They couldn’t attempt to sway along to the rhythm of the music like all of the others that were sweet on each other. He  _ should _ have been able to wave the matter off as just another unfair part of life. He  _ should _ have been able to not let it get to him, because dances were pretty lame anyway.

But for some reason, he couldn’t wave it off as trivial. He couldn’t help but let it get to him. It  _ was _ another unfair bit of life and dances  _ were  _ really kind of sappy for two greasers and they  _ did _ have some reputation to live up to… But it just wasn’t okay. Alfred couldn’t find it within himself to be okay with it, but he had to deal. It wasn’t like there was anything he could  _ do _ about it anyway, right? 

It didn’t change the fact that he really, really wanted to take Kiku to the dance. 

 

And he brought it up too. One day when the two of them were over at Kiku’s house stuck in a lazy slump, listening to the sound of the freezing rain that wasn’t  _ quite _ cold enough to fall as ice. After school when they were both tired and made even sleepier by the lull of the rain, snuggled together in the drowsiness of it all. Kiku was propped up some against the arm of the couch, using it as more of a pillow, with Alfred as a blanket. Alfred had his head resting on Kiku’s belly, half-asleep as the Jap played with his hair soothingly. It was a day when slow kisses were exchanged occasionally and where the hot chocolate that Alfred had made them both was sitting lukewarm on the table beside them. That was when Alfred brought it up, in a voice that was barely above a mumble, how much he wanted to take Kiku to the silly school dance.

And how much he hated that he couldn’t.

Really, Al just wanted to know if he would have said yes if it was an option. Alfred felt Kiku take a deep breath. “I would love to go to the dance with you, Alfred,” Kiku told him sincerely. “But I must say, I’m not much of a dancer,” he added thoughtfully. Al chuckled at that, hiding his face a little in the material of Kiku’s shirt. 

“Neither am I, but I’d still dance with you.” Kiku grinned.

“Wow, how romantic,” he teased him sarcastically.

“Shuddup,” Alfred complained, retaliating by poking him in the side where he knew that Kiku was ticklish, causing a shrill yelp from the smaller boy. Kiku gave him a look, one that Alfred was pretty used to getting. He seemed to forgive him, though, pulling him up to kiss him. 

It was nice, lazy kissing for a bit. Alfred was all relaxed and happy… Until Kiku used his lack of guard to exact his revenge, suddenly digging his fingertips into Alfred’s ribs. Alfred  _ shrieked _ in protest, risking personal injury to himself by squirming off the couch in order to escape. Kiku laughed at him, peering down at him on the floor. “Ack. Not cool, dude,” Alfred grumbled, his smile betraying him.

“Ah, but you deserved it,” Kiku reminded him. Al huffed up at him. “Come here,” he beckoned Alfred, holding his arms open inviting him to come back to cuddling. Alfred wasn’t having any of it, choosing instead to play hard to get as he stood up and crossed his arms with his back to the adorable person waiting for him to drop the act. 

“No,” he said with mock firmness. 

“But  _ Al _ ,” Kiku complained. Ugh, he was too cute. Al caved. It was those eyes that got him. Still spiteful, Alfred felt the need to just collapsed bonelessly on top of Kiku, eliciting an ‘ _ oof _ ’ at Al’s weight. Kiku sighed at him as if to say ‘ _ why was that necessary? _ ’, but then hugged Al’s head to his chest because he didn’t have very strong willpower when it came to him either, kissing the top of his head for good measure. 

 

Of course, the subject of the dance didn’t quite leave his mind alone. The day that it would happen crept steadily closer each day... and each day Al’s time was running out. If he was going to do something, he had to figure out  _ what _ soon. 

He had no idea, though. He had reviewed so many options, and none of them seemed particularly satisfying. He  _ could _ take Kiku and pretend as if they were just there as friends, but that was pointless. He could take Kiku and the two of them could  _ be _ a couple away from the main action but close enough so that they could still hear the music, but that would run a big risk of getting caught. He could  _ forget _ the entire thing and eventually it wouldn’t matter to him anymore, but that wasn’t satisfying at all. He could forget about the  _ school _ dance and hold a date for him and Kiku where the two of them could dance alone, which seemed the most likely answer to the problem, but Al still felt as if he could do better. 

He reviewed and re-reviewed all his options until he had a headache, but he  _ still _ didn’t know what to do. 

So he tried looking at it from yet another angle, as he had tried  _ many _ . What did he want? He wanted to take Kiku to the school dance without the negative consequences that would definitely arise if they were openly a couple. Based on the options he had identified, what was wrong with each? If he pretended they were friends, they obviously wouldn’t get to be a couple. If they went as a couple, but chose to stay away from where all the people should be, it would be too easy to get caught and therefore suffer the consequences. If he just left the whole dance thing alone, well that would just stink. If he held their  _ own _ dancing date back at Kiku’s place or something, he still wouldn’t be taking his date to the school dance  _ like he wanted to _ . 

So… What could he do? Holding their own private dance seemed to be the best option, but… Wait. 

That gave him an idea. 

 

Kiku was mostly aware of Alfred’s plan when Al rolled up in Artie’s car the day before the dance. Mostly. Actually, nobody knew the entire plan but Alfred himself, but that didn’t matter much.

Alfred was in a suit. Arthur had gotten it for him quite a while back and made him wear it for special occasions, despite Al’s protest. He wasn’t a formal wear-wearing kind of guy. However, this time, it wasn’t Artie that called for Al to be shoved into the monkey suit. The tux was reserved solely for special occasions… And Al didn’t know anything he’d rather wear the thing for than taking Kiku to a dance. 

He was taking Kiku to the dance. 

(Kind of…)

He could feel the butterflies already, just walking up to Kiku’s house. He was probably going to be way overdressed and make more of a fool of himself than he probably was going to later trying to dance. He didn’t have any flowers this time, though he’d annoyed the living daylights out of Arthur trying to get the bucks for some red roses. Money was tight, it just wasn’t really an option. Oh, he hoped it didn’t seem inconsiderate. Wasn’t it that you were supposed to have flowers for your date before a dance or something? Alfred mentally slapped himself. He was just nervous. He needed to calm down and remember that this was  _ Kiku _ … Of course, his heart only sped ever faster upon remembering that. 

Nevertheless, he found himself knocking on Kiku’s door, both excited and anxious about the evening he had planned ahead of them. He clasped his hands behind his back, rocking back and forth on his feet as he waited for the door to open like he knew that it would. 

And it did open and it  _ was _ Kiku. Alfred’s heart did something weird inside his chest and his breath caught in his throat for a second there because… Wow… Kiku was wearing a tux too and  _ wow _ . 

Just…

_ Wow _ . 

He looked good. 

Alfred was staring, but quite frankly he couldn’t really help that. “Hi, Kiks,” Alfred greeted him, miraculously not stuttering even if he did sound slightly like he was being strangled. 

“Good evening, Alfred,” Kiku replied with a small, shy smile. They were both quiet for a time before Alfred found himself blurting out his thoughts like a moron. 

“ _ You look reallyreally nice _ ,  _ Kiku _ .” Alfred winced at himself. Kiku blushed bashfully, his cheeks scarlet. 

“ _ A-Arigato _ …” he cleared his throat. “Thank you… And you look very handsome yourself.” Now it was Alfred’s turn to blush because  _ Kiku just called him handsome _ . 

Forget greaser cool, there was no way that Alfred could even pretend not to be the pitiful, blushing-from-ear-to-ear kid that was going to his first dance. It was pretty bad. 

But the fact that he was going to a dance with Honda Kiku made everything significantly better. 

He opened Kiku’s door for him and then jogged around to get in on the driver’s side. “Ready?” he asked. Kiku gave the affirmative and Alfred hit the gas. 

 

The Sun had pretty much done all the setting it was going to do, giving them the relative cover of the night. Alfred parked two blocks away from their destination for his own reasons. It gave them a bit of a walk in the dark to deal with, but Alfred was much too excited to spare a thought to worry about some hoods lurking in the shadows. 

He escorted his date down the street lit only by the occasional streetlight on the corner, entertaining himself by pretending that the two of them were snazzily dressed secret agents on a classified, super-dangerous mission that called only for the best of the best. Al even hummed their own theme music. 

Yeah. Not bad. 

“Alfred, what are we doing exactly?” Kiku asked. Al slung an arm across the boy’s shoulders.

“Shh! You’ll see! You’ll see!” Alfred said reassuringly. Kiku didn’t look reassured, but didn’t see a point in pressing the issue. They were nearly there anyway (not that Kiku knew that). He would see soon enough. 

Alfred supposed that he probably  _ should _ get the logical worry for them being caught going, but quite frankly, he just  _ couldn’t _ . He was too busy grinning ear to ear for caution. 

The school came into sight, an utterly dark, hollow behemoth. No sign of life after the initial school day, completely barren for the night and just waiting for when it would be filled again with a tide of students and staff just trying to get through the day. If he was correct, it should remain that way until the dance that was set to happen tomorrow. 

But  _ tonight _ , it was their destination. 

The whole team of volunteers and planners had spent the entirety of the school day getting it ready for the next day, when the crowds were to arrive. Unbeknownst to them, though, there was a pair of nicely-dressed greasers-- an oxymoron in their eyes-- that were going to put it to use before any of the intended audience did. 

Alfred was taking Kiku to the dance. 

Kiku was aware of a  _ decent _ amount of this plan. He was aware that Alfred was taking him to the dance. (‘ _ What dance?’ _ Kiku had asked. ‘The  _ dance _ ’ Alfred had told him). Alfred had informed him that it wouldn’t exactly be  _ legal _ , per se, but it was all fun in the spirit of teenage rebellion. Kiku was willing to get on board after being firmly assured that he wouldn’t get arrested for it. 

Silly, Kiku. They could only be arrested if they got caught. Alfred had no intentions of being caught.

He had actually thought out this plan. Alfred’s Democracy 101 teacher, Mr. Vargas, always left the window open and never failed to forget to lock it again. That would be their point of infiltration. It should be relatively easy to get into the place, actually. All of the outer doors and windows were to be locked, but next to none of the teachers bothered to lock up their classrooms. Oh, there’d probably be more locked than usual because of the upcoming dance, but Mr. Vargas’ wouldn’t be. He would be  _ at _ the dance, as he was the teacher willing to supervise the student council that his grandson Feliciano was president of. 

All they had to do was get in through the Democracy 101 classroom window and walk to the gym and enjoy their night from there. Simple. 

Alfred and Kiku stuck to the shadows, hoping to remain unseen by anyone. “We’re going to… the school?” Kiku confirmed warily. Alfred nodded. “We’re going to break into the school… Okay. Fine. But if we get caught it’s your fault.” And that was all he said on the matter. 

When they were officially on school grounds, Alfred lowered his voice and briefed Kiku on the action plan. “Okay… So you know Mr. Vargas? The Democracy 101 teacher?” Kiku nodded to say that he did. “He always leaves a window open. Doesn’t really mean to, but he does. Yeah, we’re going in through there.”

“What if he  _ did _ remember to lock the window? Do we have a plan B?”

“A very good question, Kiku! And not really, no. I’m just really kinda hoping here…” Alfred admitted. Kiku sighed, shaking his head. 

Alfred was kind of expecting to have to utilize some American spy badassery to get past somebody.  _ Anybody _ . But there was nobody there. He was kind of expecting somersaulting over obstacles, pressing up against walls in a last resort attempt to remain unseen, and/or rolling along the ground for whatever situation called for that… But that just… wasn’t the case. They walked right up to the joint in the quiet and in the dark and there was not a thing to stop them. 

Except, you know, the matter of  _ finding _ a window that you’ve never previously located from the outside before... without any light. 

But they  _ did _ end up finding it because Alfred was just so skilled like that. It must have been the greaser, wrong-side-of-the-tracks genetic material in him. That, or he tried literally every window on the ground floor until one of them budged, but he preferred to think of that as being resourceful and thorough.

The window squeaked open after so many tries and misses that Alfred was surprised when it worked. This was it. He’d done it. He whipped around to look at Kiku, who was standing quietly behind him keeping his eye out for anybody that may witness their nighttime activities. Al grinned excitably, feeling his heart pounding in his chest because  _ wow this was actually going to happen _ . He held open the window to help Kiku in first. Leather jacket, rebellious spirit, background, and hair grease aside, there was never grounds not to be a chivalrous gentleman whenever possible. There wasn’t a reason in the world why he couldn’t be a greasy-haired bane to society and also be a decent human being.

Al gave his date a boost in through the smallish opening and he was able to successfully clamber in. Kiku gave him a thumbs-up from inside the school. He was good. Now it was Al’s turn. 

Ugh. He had to do this in a suit. Great. Oh well. 

Bracing his hands on either side of the window, he decided he was just going to try diving for it. He jumped,  _ just _ managing to avoid smashing himself headfirst into the window that only opened so far… And,  _ ouch _ , that wasn’t the best idea… BUT HE WAS IN! Mostly…  _ Half _ of him was in. His legs were still dangling out the window. It wasn’t the most comfortable position to be in. 

He wriggled, endeavoring to crawl the rest of the way in, but… he didn’t move forward. He wiggled some more, pushing  _ and _ pulling with his hands. Nothing. Well, that wasn’t good. He cleared his throat. “Uh… Kiks?” 

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re…?”

“Help me? Please?”

“ _ Alfred _ …” Kiku sighed, stepping forward to grab Al by the forearms, bracing himself. “Okay, I’m going to try to pull you in,” he informed the American. A secret agent bested by a window. How unprofessional... Kiku pulled, Alfred pulling back in an attempt to help. 

He wasn’t going anywhere and it  _ hurt _ . “ _ Ow ow ow ow _ !” Alfred complained. Kiku stopped for a breather. Al’s belly, butt, and hips weren’t any closer to being free of the window pane. Kiku ran a hand through his hair. 

“You see, all of that junk food has consequences,” he pointed out sagely, stepping back to assess the situation. Al fruitlessly struggled some more against the thing. 

“Shut up! ‘M not fat!” he grunted indignantly. Kiku chuckled, affectionately kissing him on the nose. 

“I know you’re not, sugarlump. You’re flawless as they come.” Kiku kissed him again, catching his lips this time. “You’re still stuck in a window, though.”

Al blew some hair out of his face poutily, blushing and smiling. 

“Let’s try this again,” Kiku said, taking Alfred’s arms once again. He took a deep breath… And pulled as hard as he could. 

It wasn’t pleasant. 

But Al came loose, falling to the floor in an ungraceful heap. He hopped right back up, brushing the dust off of the black tux. “There we go. Better?” Kiku asked, helping Alfred wipe some dirt off his sleeve. Al nodded. 

“Well, I’m not caught in a window anymore, so great!” he confirmed. He offered his date his arm. “Shall we, my dear?”

“But of course.”

 

A huge shoutout to the Big Guy in the Sky that A. Mr. Vargas’ room wasn’t locked from the outside and B. neither was the gymnasium. It was weird being in the school after dark. Pretty creepy too.  _ Not _ that Alfred was  _ scared _ . It was just that it reminded him of every scary story _ ever _ so he had to hold onto his partner in crime tighter in case  _ Kiku _ got scared.

Kiku and his impeccable sense of direction led the two of them right to the double doors of the gym without having to turn on a single light or get lost, so that was cool. Al did the honors of theatrically throwing open those doors to reveal the large space beyond... 

Alfred’s heartbeat had been switching modes with his emotions all evening from the moment he had picked up Kiku. Ranging from beating to the flap of the butterflies in his stomach to rushing from totally  _ not _ being creeped out by the school hallways in the darkness to pounding with the thrill of danger and teenage rebellion. Now, as he stood by Kiku alone after everything working out more or less as planned, he didn’t know  _ what _ the muscle in his chest was doing. There they were, in the place of the dance as planned, utterly alone together for the rest of their date and Alfred was almost positive his heart was trying to jump out of his chest both from tingling nerves and insurmountable joy. 

Distracting himself by bustling about for lights and music, Alfred got everything ready for a proper, two-man school dance. Kiku watched after him fondly, which Alfred was constantly aware of, almost itching to get back to him. 

The school was empty. It was just the two of them. All of the records were in place and all of the lights were up, yet dimmed. 

There was a lump in Alfred’s throat as he turned and walked back over to Kiku, who was waiting for him patiently with a sweet little half-smile. The music started to play and Al honestly had no idea what kind of selection they were set to be dancing to, but he didn’t even  _ care _ . 

He and Kiku stood toe-to-toe just taking a second to look at each other. Al had to physically shake his head to snap himself out of it. He bowed like a prince out of a fairytale, offering Kiku his hand. “May I have this dance?” he asked. Kiku’s eyes sparkled as he smiled, giving a curt nod and taking Alfred’s hand. 

“Perhaps just this once,” he teased quietly. 

Neither Alfred nor Kiku was a dancer. At all. Anyway you looked at it.

And yet it wasn’t half bad. 

The first song was a pretty light, cheery one chosen presumably to get all of the dancers acquainted and happy and started off on a good note. Alfred, blushing, cautiously reached out to his date, taking one of his hands and entwining their fingers. Al smiled down at him nervously, not having a  _ clue _ what he was doing. It took some awkward changes of hands and actual verbal communication to figure out that it would be best for Alfred to place his free hand on Kiku’s shoulder and Kiku to have his at Alfred’s waist.

Al led the best he could to the tune, stepping forward twice with one foot, nearly tripping over Kiku who wasn’t  _ quite _ ready for that and then twice again with his other foot. It took a couple of times of the same general thing, but they caught a sort of rhythm like that. 1, 1, 2, 2, 1, 1, 2, 2… It felt clumsy and lumbering, but it was fun. Al’s grin was contagious. He hardly realized it until the both of them were smiling ear to ear despite the sweaty palms and occasional stumbling due to the difference in leg length. Kiku was stepping on Alfred’s feet and Alfred was narrowly  _ missing _ stepping on Kiku’s because he was so focused on  _ not doing that _ . They were pressed close together and even in the unheated chill of the gym around them, they were getting all sweaty under the suits. They were panting and smiling all over the place and it was probably all so  _ stupid _ … But there was no place that Al could think of rather being. 

So they made their way around the dancefloor, stuttering in their steps and poking fun at each other because they were both so  _ awful _ at it. The two of them slowed down and sped up, ebbed and flowed, with the song as it came to an end and another took its place.

They tried a couple different things that way, keeping their sort-of pattern. Alfred tried for twirling Kiku around and then... vice versa, which had Kiku giggling as Al tried to duck under his shorter arm to spin. 

They tried pulling apart, staying connected by their held hands, and then one partner rolling in to be held up against the other’s chest. It never worked too well when it was Kiku trying the “man’s” part because of how short he was compared to Al, but that was the best part. 

_ Sure _ , it was nice to roll Kiku in and sway with Kiku’s back pressed to Al’s front, holding him gently from behind as they moved to the melody. It was  _ very _ nice, actually. He could rest his chin on Kiku’s hair or on his shoulder. He could press a kiss to the top of Kiku’s head. He could whisper or giggle sappy, dorky little things in his ear…

_ But _ , the fun bit was when Alfred was the one tugged into Kiku’s embrace… When  _ Kiku  _ had his arms wrapped around  _ Alfred _ and kept him close… He was too short. And it was the most adorably hilarious thing because Al was all but swooning for the boy... and his nose was poking into Alfred’s back because to reach any higher he would have to be on tiptoes.

It had the both of them uncontrollably cracking up for the entire rest of the song. 

 

Then, naturally, came the slow songs. The ones high school sweethearts either came for or dreaded. 

And Alfred couldn’t honestly say that he had come for the slow songs… but he  _ had _ come for Kiku. So when the song started playing all gentle and sweet, Alfred wasn’t going to protest to trying a different kind of dancing.

Al moved to loop both arms around Kiku, resting his forearms lightly on Kiku’s shoulders. Following his lead, Kiku carefully slid his own arms around Alfred’s waist, his hands clasping in the small of Al’s back. Standing oh-so-close and having nowhere to look but each other, Alfred could finally start to see the whole hype about this slow dancing thing. 

The two of them swayed in place to the music, taking the opportunity just to lose themselves in each other’s eyes. There were a million adjectives that Alfred could choose to use for the person that he got the privilege of holding in his arms, but none of them seemed to be enough. All he knew was that his heart was full to bursting with all of the little things that he adored about Kiku, which was a  _ lot _ of little things. And that was why they were there, wasn’t it?

It was easy to get swept away in the fantasies of the lyrics flowing around them. It was easy to forget their situation and any of its negativity… So Alfred held Kiku close and let the world wash away. 

Songs passed as fluidly as the time. Neither of which were paid too much mind. No, they were far too absorbed in the moment. Occasionally, Alfred would recognize a tune that was playing and murmur the lovestruck nothings in his partner’s ear, feeling him curve nearly imperceptibly towards him to catch the words. 

It was hypnotizing: the music, the swaying they called dancing, the feel of the rough fabric of Kiku’s suit under his hands, the slope of Kiku’s shoulders, the warmth of them pressed together,  _ all of it _ . 

Alfred found himself humming along to the record, resting his head on an arm that he had over Kiku’s shoulder, and only half pulled out of his dreamlike trance when Kiku stirred to look him in the eyes once more and brush some stray hair out of his face. Alfred gave him a small smile, leaning into him and kissing him tenderly in the low light. 

 

The moment was shattered like the window of a submarine, the glaring reminder of reality spilling in suddenly and without sympathy. 

A broom clattered to the ground in the janitor’s shock at there being someone  _ there _ right before he yelled out a booming “HEY!”

Alfred and Kiku started at the sudden intrusion, the consequent wave of adrenaline slapping enough wits into them to get them to scatter. The man was hot on their tails, determined to at least get a good look at their faces to be able to point them out to authorities. Or better yet, catch them and hold them for the authorities when they arrived. 

They figured that that probably shouldn’t happen. 

So they made a dash for the way they’d gotten in with this guy on their heels. Janitors had not been taken into account in Alfred’s plan. Apparently they should have. 

They got back to Mr. Vargas’ classroom without slipping and falling, so there was that. Alfred had thought that maybe they’d lost the janitor, as they hadn’t run for an actual  _ exit _ and they had lost sight of him out of the corner of their eyes. Al let himself take a breath as he and Kiku got out through the window without any incidents like those that had happened when Al was trying to get in. 

Then, the janitor came into sight across the schoolyard. And he saw them. And they ran. And he ran after them and Alfred was terrified that they wouldn’t be able to lose him. 

They hurtled down the dark streets, taking unnecessary turns and trying to stay to the shadows as much as humanly possible in their efforts not to be caught. 

Alfred was breathing so loudly trying to get enough air in to oxygenate his blood, he was almost positive that the guy could track them by that alone. Kiku must have gotten more or less the same idea… That, or he would rather Alfred not pass out… Because he pulled him down to crouch behind a bush and take a breather. They couldn’t hear anybody after them.

Alfred smiled breathlessly at Kiku. “I think that went well,” he managed to say between gulps of air. Kiku shrugged and nodded, panting as well. 

“Not bad,” he agreed, ruffling Alfred’s hair playfully. Now all they would have to do was find their ways back home, since they had gotten so off course. 

So they did. Once they could breathe again, they got back up and went looking for street signs or landmarks of any kind that could tell them which direction to go in order to get out of these soc suburbs they’d found themselves in. It was all well and good until, when they were passing under a streetlight, they spotted a familiar ugly face down the street. Their janitor friend was still out looking for them. He yelled to signify that he’d seen the two wayward hooligans and also to cue said hooligans to take off sprinting again. 

They didn’t know where they were going. They didn’t know where to find the car from wherever they were. But they’d have a lot bigger problems if they stopped their brisk nighttime run. 

_ However _ , they didn’t consider that those potential problems would get  _ worse _ … until they heard the police siren blare up  _ way _ too close for comfort. On the positive side, it gave them an extra boost of energy to  _ move it along a little faster _ . Their janitor must have flagged down a patrolman or something… or, that was what Alfred assumed. 

He and his date whipped around another unfamiliar corner… and smashed  _ right into _ someone else. Someone else who was  _ also _ travelling at a high velocity. Kiku got a slab of metal to the face and Alfred got knocked to the ground with this new person on top of him.  _ And the siren was getting closer _ . Al shoved at this random person and whatever he had clutched in his hand… Was that a stop sign? “Move they’re after us!” Alfred cried, starting to panic with just how close the cop car was coming. 

“What?!” exclaimed the random dude in some kind of accent. “You too?!” Wait, what? Well, that was a change of events. 

“Alfred!” Kiku hissed, rubbing at his forehead. “The police are after  _ him _ . Not us. But we can’t stick around either because that’s liable to change…” 

“Hey! Guys! Follow me! I live just over here!” insisted their stop sign guy with the funny accent. Alfred and Kiku were in no place to consider other options, so they followed close behind him. The guy, as it turned out, had nearly been on his front yard when the three of them had collided. Their savior slammed the door shut behind them and, just in the nick of time too, because the cop car wailed past not 10 seconds later. 

Alfred blinked and was finally able to get a decent look at their rescuer who was proudly brandishing his stop sign in the air and yelling for someone named ‘Lukas’. Blue eyes, blond hair… a  _ lot _ of blond hair all spiked with so much gel it defied physics. About their age, pretty tall, a wide smile, a loud voice. He didn’t seem half-bad. Even if he was a soc. “What are you yelling about, Matthias?” asked another dude. This one was  _ also _ around their age and  _ also _ blond, but his hair lied much more flat, save for a single curl in the back, in comparison to… Uh,  _ Matthias _ . It was held back out of his face with a cross-shaped baratte. Maybe really religious or something. This guy, presumably the ‘Lukas’ that had been called for, had some pretty neat purple eyes that looked tired of whatever antics Matthias had gotten up to, even though he hadn’t seen it yet. 

“SEE! SEE, LUKAS! AND YOU THOUGHT I WOULDN’T DO IT! HA!” Matthias shouted, waving the stop sign in Lukas’ face. Lukas raised an eyebrow. 

“My God, you actually did it. You’re an idiot,” Lukas informed Matthias. Lukas’ eyes wandered over to Alfred and Kiku. “Who are you two?” he asked, his expression never changing. 

“Oh! I’m Alfred. This is Kiku. We ran into Matthias here… literally… And since we both had people to be running from, he let us in,” Alfred explained good-naturedly. Lukas sighed, looking back over at Matthias. 

“You got caught, did you?”

“ _ Well _ , no. A patrolling cop  _ saw me _ and  _ chased _ me, but he didn’t  _ catch _ me,” Matthias told him happily, still very proud of himself for his deed. Lukas ignored him. 

“And why were you two running again?” he asked, turning back to Al and Kiku. 

“We were being chased by a janitor. We just broke into the school,” Alfred said. Kiku elbowed him in the ribs. Lukas didn’t seem phased by this admission, though. 

“Why?” Alfred paused at that. He couldn’t  _ tell _ this guy. He was a stranger, after all. 

“I…” he held out the syllable as he gave himself time to think. “I’m not exactly sure,” Alfred decided. 

“Congratulations. Your idiocy is compatible with the likes of him,” Lukas informed him, nodding to Matthias. “Well… Make yourselves at home, I guess. We have nothing against fools here, as you can imagine,” he offered, spreading his arms to the rest of the house. Matthias stepped forward, shaking both of their hands vigorously. 

“Nice to meet you, nice to meet you, Alfred and Kiku! I’m Matthias, as you know. Matthias Kohler. And that’s Lukas, of course. Don’t mind him. He’s really a nice guy; just a killjoy, yeah? Feel free to stay as long as you like!” he gushed amiably. 

After a brief consultation with Kiku, Al was allowed to stay for at least a little bit, which both he and Matthias jumped for joy about simultaneously. ‘Cut from the same cloth’, Kiku and Lukas agreed. Alfred and Matthias really hit it off as friends. Kiku and Lukas got along pretty well too. Apparently, Matthias was from Denmark and Lukas was from Norway. While Al and Matthias jabbered on about whatever subject was deemed mildly interesting in the living room, Lukas went about showing Kiku some stuff about assorted Nordic cuisine in the kitchen. 

It couldn’t possibly have been  _ that _ long until there was a commotion upstairs… Followed by a loud pounding on the front door. “I’VE GOT IT! I’VE GOT IT!” Matthias announced, hopping up from his seat to get the door. Alfred wasn’t really paying it any mind… until the person at the door started talking. Because he  _ knew _ that voice. 

Alfred got up, peering around the corner  _ just _ to be sure even though there was no mistaking it. And sure enough. He was right. “Gil?!” The eldest Beilschmidt brother stopped midsentence to stare back at Alfred. 

“Alfred? What? What are you doing in there?”

“What are  _ you _ doing here?”

“You two know each other?” Matthias interjected curiously. Alfred nodded. 

“Yeah. This is Gilbert. He’s a friend of mine.”

“Wow! This is great! Well, any friend of Alfred’s is a friend of mine. Come in, come in! I’m Matthias. I just met Mr. Alfred tonight. How can we help you?” Matthias asked, his bubbly personality excited at the serendipitous circumstances as well as meeting a friend of his new friend. Gilbert went along with it, stepping onto the threshold and looking around. Something was off with him. Alfred could tell. He didn’t seem like his usual overconfident, proud self. He seemed worried. 

“I was… I was walking my, erm... my pet bird, okay? And he flew off! He doesn’t usually do this. I followed after him and he flew right into your upstairs window! Can I…?” Gilbert explained. 

“Sure! I’ll even help you try to catch your little friend!” Matthias placated, gesturing for them to follow him towards the stairs. 

“How…? How do you even ‘walk’ a bird?” Alfred snickered, elbowing the Prussian teasingly. 

“Oh, shut up, Alfredo Sauce! He needs exercise, doesn’t he? I’m not going to keep him locked up in a cage all day! Pshaw! My Gilbird is  _ way _ too awesome for such treatment! I even have a custom-ordered leash for him!” Gilbert snapped back defensively, back to the person that Alfred knew. 

“The fact that you have a bird leash aside… You, Gilbert, named your pet bird… Gilbird?”

“But of course! He is too awesome for any other such name!” Gilbert retorted as if anything else was just silly. Matthias chuckled at the two of them. 

There was a  _ crash _ that echoed from upstairs as well as a screech that was distinctly that of a bird. Then, after a couple breaths of silence, two birds came swooping down the stairwell, seeming very unhappy at each other’s presence. Another boy followed behind the animals. Despite looking younger than the other two Nordics, his hair was grayish white. He had deep violet eyes to match Lukas’. “Is the yellow one yours?” the boy asked them all simultaneously. 

“Hello, Emil!” Matthias said, waving. “Guys, this is Emil,” he confirmed to Al and Gil. Alfred waved a cheery hello. Gilbert was a little preoccupied going after the ‘yellow one’ that was fighting with a… puffin…? The little ball of yellow fluff actually came to Gilbert’s call, landing on his head with its feathers all unhappily ruffled. It was all very cute… until the puffin divebombed the bird and, consequently, Gilbert. 

For a couple seconds it was chirping and squawking and feathers and German shrieking. Then, Emil stepped in. “MR. PUFFIN!” The thing stopped what it was doing immediately at the stern tone and came to flutter back to perch on Emil’s shoulder. Gilbert, almost snarling, gently cupped his petite bird in his hands, inspecting it for damage caused by the other one. 

Lukas and Kiku were standing in the doorway of the kitchen, both of them wearing aprons and Lukas balancing a mixing bowl and whisk on his hip. “Gilbert?” Kiku said, confused. 

“Yes, that is the magnificent me,” Gilbert huffed, still concerned for his pet. 

“How many people are there in my house that I don’t know?” Lukas sighed, absently stirring whatever was in the bowl. The Norwegian glanced up to see Emil, hovering at the top of the stairs out of politeness and looking ready to disappear back to his room. “Ah, Emil. Have you introduced yourself to our guests?”

“Matthias told them my name…” Emil answered as laconic as possible. 

“Well, don’t be shy. Go ahead and tell them a little about yourself, such as… your relationship to me. Just for example,” Lukas prompted. 

“I’m… From Iceland…”

“Good, yes, and?” Lukas wanted to hear him say something. 

“...  _ And _ ,” he bit, grudgingly cooperative. “Lukas is my…” he paused, his jaw set. “Older sibling,” he decided. Lukas gave a tight-lipped smile. 

“What was that?”

“ _ Older _ .  _ Sibling _ .”

“Why so wordy, Emil? Just say I’m your big brother.” Emil turned on his heel and went back to his room. Hmm. Must have been an inside joke or something.

 

They spent a decent amount of time chatting after that. Gilbert was an excellent addition to Matthias and Alfred’s partnership. They were a proper Three Musketeers trio. Just, more  _ awesome _ . However, sooner or later they still had to leave. Gilbert was the first to have to head out to get back to his brother before he started to worry. Alfred and Kiku had to follow suit too soon for their liking afterwards. They said their goodbyes as well as promises to meet again… and then they were off, armed with Matthias’ directions to the street where their car was parked. 

Alfred and Kiku weren’t even down the block when Kiku realized that he was still wearing Lukas’ apron over his suit, luckily. Alfred opted to jog it back over, not even bothering with knocking as he’d left so soon before.

He was greeted to the sight of Matthias hugging a slightly, reluctantly smiling Lukas to his chest and peppering his face all over with sweet little smooches. Lukas, of course, was the first to see Alfred standing in the doorway, who was feeling bad for intruding. He hadn’t realized they were  _ together _ , but they were cute. Lukas shoved Matthias away immediately, the Dane looking surprised… until he noticed why. “Oh! H-Hey, Alfred! We… we were just. Uh…? Doing... Something. Nothing. We were doing nothing. I mean--” Matthias tried, and failed, to explain. Alfred waved him off. 

“Dude. It’s fine. Really. Kiku and I are _ dating _ ,” Alfred assured him. Slowly, Matthias broke into a grin. 

“Nice! Best of luck to you two! And sorry you had to see that.” Al rolled his eyes, smiling at his friend, leaving the apron on the couch and hurrying to rejoin his  _ own _ sweetheart. 

 

Kiku was where Alfred had left him, leaning against a mailbox in his tuxedo looking just as handsome as he had before. Al couldn’t help but at least wrap him up in a hug just at the sight. “Home?” Al asked as he released the boy. Kiku nodded. 

It was a nice walk. Cold. But nice because it was with Kiku and because they could just  _ talk _ some more. 

At least, it was simple and nice until  **_the janitor_ ** . 

The guy ran at them. Again. He still had his stupid mop. He must have been lurking that  _ entire _ time. 

_ Geeze _ ! Didn’t this dude have something to  _ clean up _ ?

Like, maybe his priorities?

What a creep. Yeah, nobody wants to get caught by some ugly middle aged dude that has the weekend night shift for janitoring a high school with  _ that much persistence _ . So, again, they found themselves running. 

However,  _ this time _ , they had a place to go. The car. 

The car was still quite a ways off, but they made it, breathing heavily, hearts pumping crazily, and the adrenaline still going strong. They got to it, still running, and fumbling for the doors because they didn’t know  _ where _ the guy was anymore. 

Kiku slid stealthily into the backseat. Alfred leapt in after him with the grace of a water buffalo, not entirely sure what he was  _ expecting _ to happen, but hey he was pretty startled. Nevertheless, he still landed directly on top of Kiku. Kiku coughed in pain. “Why did you feel the need to do that?” he asked, a little strangled. 

“Sorry, babe,” Alfred apologized quietly, his heart still thundering. “Kiks!” he hissed, something occurring to him. “W-What if he comes by and we need to make a getaway?!”

“Well, you’re the driver… who chose to follow after me instead of getting in the driver’s seat…” Kiku pointed out, moving so that he could breathe. 

“ _ Kiks _ ,” Alfred complained, his heart rate leaping even more. 

“Hey. We’ll be fine, Alfred,” Kiku assured him softly. Al couldn’t be so sure, and Kiku must have read it in his face. “Even if he did pass by, to see us he would have to be peering in each individual car. I don’t think we have anything to worry about.”

“Yeah. You’re probably right…” Alfred relented. Kiku brushed his knuckles lightly against Al’s cheek. 

“Alfred. Look at me.” Alfred obeyed, and was surprised by Kiku reaching up to kiss him, but he didn’t protest. Kiku stroked his hair gently, having Al melting into his touch, despite the adrenaline still chilling his veins. “Calm down. We’re  _ fine _ ,” he breathed into the space between them. 

It was about at this point that Alfred became aware of the position they had found themselves in. It was also about this point that Alfred kissed the boy again, quite a bit more than the comforting touch of lips Kiku had offered. 

Kiku inhaled sharply, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him closer, sucking at his bottom lip when Al came up for air. Alfred chuckled quietly, pressing a chaste kiss to the tip of Kiku’s nose, to his cheek, and then recapturing his lips. “Ugh. ‘S cold in here,” Alfred noted, moving back to admire Kiku’s face, kissing the upturned corner of his mouth as Kiku smiled at the words. 

“Come here and I’ll warm you up, then.”

Couldn’t say no to that. 

They met again in a passionate kiss, Kiku boldly pressing his tongue between Alfred’s lips. Alfred held to him like a lifeline, eyes fluttering closed at the feeling. For an unknown amount of time, it was nothing but lips, tongue, teeth, and breaths intermingling, completely lost in each other in the back of the car. It was brief gasps for air and then stealing each other’s breath away once more. It was losing their minds, getting high on each other. It was passion, intensity, and adrenaline with no sense of logic making an impression. It was Alfred’s body pressing Kiku into the upholstery in his brother’s car.  

Kiku rolled them, with intention to flip their positions. They were, however, reminded that they were in a  _ car _ . 

And that was how they both managed to fall onto the floorboard and smack their heads together, luckily not managing to bite each other’s tongues off in the process. 

The both of them, a little disoriented and dazed, stayed there on the floor for a while, blinking upwards blankly. 

Kiku buried his face in Alfred’s suit front, dissolving into laughter in his embarrassment. Alfred joined him after a moment, hugging him reassuringly. “That… Was  _ not _ what I meant to do…” Kiku groaned, his voice muffled by the tux. Alfred, smiling, kissed his forehead where there would probably be a bruise later.  

“Hmm… And what did you  _ mean _ to do?” Alfred asked, feigning innocence to see Kiku blush and try to laugh it off. 

“If you will join me, I’ll give you a demonstration,” Kiku replied, climbing off the American so he could move. Al hoisted himself back up on the seat, lying back pretending to be cool and collected, watching Kiku’s every move with curiosity. Kiku was slow, deliberate, and never broke eye contact with Alfred. Alfred felt his breath hitch in his throat when Kiku straddled his waist, the Japanese pausing to savor the view from his position above him. Kiku leaned down to kiss him softly on the mouth, Alfred meeting him all too eager. Kiku situated himself more comfortably, lying down and hovering over Al’s face on his forearms with his knees still pressed into Arthur’s backseat on either side of Alfred. 

Alfred clutched at Kiku’s shoulders, absently running his hands up and down his arms as Kiku thoroughly mapped out the inside of Alfred’s mouth. Al enjoyed just  _ letting _ him for quite a while, putty under his ministrations, occasionally lazily swirling his own tongue around Kiku’s. 

The bout of kissing only came to an end when Kiku pulled away breathing heavily, a strand of saliva connecting the two of them. Al whined at the sudden loss of Kiku’s mouth over his, but was pretty effectively shut up by Kiku attaching himself to the area where Alfred’s jaw met his neck. Al realized he had been digging his fingertips into Kiku’s shoulders pretty hard. Feeling guilty, he relaxed his grip, choosing to knead and massage at the area instead as he screwed his eyes shut at his date nipping and kissing at the new point.

Alfred smirked, a thought occurring to him. “Now it’s too  _ warm _ in here,” he laughed, remembering his previous complaints about the cold. Kiku smiled at him, affectionately rubbing their noses together. 

“Hmm…” Kiku hummed, Alfred feeling the vibrations against his chest. “Feel free to shed a few layers, if you like,” he said, grinning. Alfred’s heart jumped in his chest, even though he was just teasing. Kiku had been joking, but Al wasn’t about to miss seeing his face if he  _ accepted _ that invitation. 

Before he could chicken out of it, Alfred sat up a little, Kiku in his lap. Needless to say, Kiku was rather surprised when Al started shrugging out of his suit jacket. Alfred was blushing furiously, but he wasn’t the only one. He leaned in for a quick peck to the side of Kiku’s mouth as he started to undo the very top buttons of his undershirt. He fumbled clumsily with them in the darkness, nerves making it worse. “Care to help me with this?” He offered, sounding way more confident about it than he felt. Kiku was pretty flabbergasted, which was the whole goal. It made Alfred smile a little. 

“I-I-I…” he stuttered before clearing his throat. “Yeah…” he breathed. “ _ Yeah _ .” Alfred lied back onto his elbows, giving him easier access. Kiku’s fingers much more nimbly handled the buttons, carefully undoing them one by one. He openly stared at every new inch of exposed skin, making Alfred blush like crazy. 

“Sorry about the, um… I-I mean, I haven’t been to the gym lately and all, s-so I kind of carry some extra pounds… Sorry, it’s just tha--” Alfred started to try and say as Kiku got closer to his stomach, where he was admittedly… kind of pudgy. Kiku cut him off with a kiss to his lips. 

“Alfred, you are perfect just the way you are,” Kiku told him sincerely, tilting up Al’s chin to look him straight in the eyes. Alfred coughed on a chuckle at that. 

“I, uh, appreciate that and all, but, uh… I don’t think that’s  _ quite _ the word for it.” Kiku raised an eyebrow at him, seeing he was serious. Kiku shook his head at him. 

“Then perhaps one of us doesn’t know the definition of the word… or you’re just not seeing what I’m seeing.” Kiku kissed his lips once more. “Because I see you. I see your stunning blue eyes. I see your beautiful pink lips,” he said, kissing each thing listed as he went. “I see nice collarbones.” Alfred let his head fall back as Kiku continued what he was doing, getting lower. “I see a broad chest and strong arms.” Alfred watched Kiku feel the beat of his heart with his lips and laughed at Kiku kissing his arm. “I see an  _ adorable  _ tummy.” He pressed a lingering kiss there. “And I see pretty little hipbones.” Alfred jumped a bit when Kiku gave a gentle bite there. Kiku crawled back up to his face. “I see  _ you _ , Alfred F. Jones. And I think you are perfect… And that you have a gorgeous body.” Alfred smiled shyly. 

“H-How do I even respond to that?” he croaked.

“You shut up and kiss me,” Kiku laughed lightly. 

Alfred was happy to. 

He held Kiku’s face in both hands, bringing him down to kiss long and sweet. A wordless ‘thank you’. He laid back down, grimacing at the chill of the seat on his now bare upper half, but  then Kiku was there to cover him. 

And they kissed. Slower, more earnestly than before. They were deep, long, sloppy sort of kisses. Tongues and lips moving together, the two of them so close it was hard to tell just whose mouth they were in at times. Kiku was hesitant when it came to touching Al’s bare skin, but he seemed to warm up to the idea when Alfred arched and shivered at his fingertips ghosting along his sides, much too delicate  _ not _ to tickle some. He gained confidence as he went, running a hand down his chest, across his arms and shoulders, a thumb over his hip that massaged little circles into the ridge of the bone and drove him  _ nuts _ .

Kiku moved on from his kissing to nuzzle once again at Alfred’s neck and listen to all of the little intakes of breath he caused as his hands caressed Al’s upper body, his black hair tickling Al’s chin. Alfred gave a strangled gasp, jerking as Kiku’s fingertips sliding along his ribs turned to finger _ nails _ that were just as gentle, but  _ very _ different “ _ Gah _ ! That’s not even fair, dude! Why am  _ I _ the only one without a shirt here?!” he spluttered out, grasping onto Kiku in his surprise. Kiku blushed, shrugging. 

“My apologies. D-Do you want me to?” he asked, looking down at his own suit. Alfred paused. Of  _ course _ Alfred wanted the boy to take his shirt off, but…?

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, sweetheart. If you’re comfortable with that, I’m all for you taking off your shirt. If you’re  _ not _ in  _ any way _ , that’s cool too, Kiks. I’m fine being the only one shirtless here, really, I am if that’s what you’d prefer,” Alfred told him, reaching up and cupping one of his cheeks in his hand. Kiku leaned into his palm, his eyes closing.

“No, no… It’s fine. I will…”

“You sure, baby?” Alfred wanted to confirm. Kiku nodded in the affirmative, a flash of a half-smile on his face. 

“Only if you’ll assist me.” Alfred threw his head back and laughed, kissing his date. 

“Happy to help, Kiku. Just as long as everyone keeps their pants on. ‘M not gonna go  _ that _ far tonight.” Al undid his date’s tux, sliding it off his shoulders, and then went about anxiously picking at buttons. 

Kiku had to help him with that. 

But then, oh but  _ then _ Kiku tugged his shirt off. 

Now, Alfred had never seen him without it  _ before _ . And just.  _ Wow _ . Kiku looked  _ really _ good. And he was staring, and he knew that, but  _ wow _ . His jaw had dropped open and he was almost  _ comically _ in awe, but  _ wow _ . 

Kiku had sat back when he’d taken off his shirt, letting Al look, but he seemed uncomfortable at having to  _ stay _ there and be stared at. “Wow, Kiks, I… How did I ever get such a good-looking fella?” Alfred wondered aloud. Kiku blushed, curling in on himself self-consciously. “Can I kiss you?” Al managed to squeak. Kiku nodded wordlessly, leaning back down to connect their lips before hovering over him again. Both of them broke the kiss to exhale at the feeling of skin touching skin as their chests were pressed together. 

Alfred was almost afraid to put his hands on him, so his arms dangled uselessly at his sides. Kiku got the memo sooner or later, blindly reaching down through another heated kiss to take one of Al’s hands and place it gently on his shoulder. “Al. It’s okay.” He didn’t need any further encouragement. 

He traced the swell of Kiku’s shoulders, feeling the warm skin under his fingers. He ran both hands down Kiku’s back like he’d wanted to for a while, feeling the lean muscles flex with an almost childlike wonder. Kiku sighed, burying his face in the crook of Alfred’s neck and pausing all he was doing just to feel Al’s hands. Alfred traced the muscles of Kiku’s torso with a finger, the Japanese boy responding by wrapping his arms around Alfred, his pants hot against his neck. “Kiks?”

“Hmm?”

“Either give me a hickey or kiss me or  _ something _ , ‘cause it’s really hard to focus with you breathing in my ear like that.” Kiku chuckled, still squirming under Alfred’s palms. 

“Do you  _ want _ me to suck a bruise into your neck, Alfred?” 

“Well…” Al wasn’t entirely sure. He didn’t really care. He’d kind of been half- _ expecting _ one…? “Sure. Yeah.” Kiku shrugged, not having anything against that. 

Al skimmed the bumps of Kiku’s ribcage, feeling his sides expand and contract with each breath. He twitched at the feeling of Kiku biting at his neck, reaching up a hand to tangle in his dark hair. His other hand had become pretty fond of running up and down the smoothness of Kiku’s back. Alfred rubbed at the knots of tension that he found, the muscles slowly relaxing and Kiku groaning against his neck. Kiku tilted Al’s face towards him to kiss him roughly before picking out another area on the American’s neck. Alfred pouted some, not quite done kissing him yet. What could he say? The taste of Kiku on his tongue was addicting. 

So, Al tried something that he’d be lying if he said he  _ hadn’t _ been tempted to do the moment he’d gotten a feel of Kiku’s skin under his hands. And sank his teeth into Kiku’s shoulder; not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to leave an imprint and get his attention. 

It had its desired effect. 

Kiku made a noise in the back of his throat at the unexpected feeling, meeting Alfred’s eyes with a dark glint in his. He didn’t even have to ask; Kiku all but  _ pounced  _ on him, clashing their mouths together, teeth clacking, for an open-mouthed kiss.

Al grinned against his date, mentally filing that away for later use. 

Kiku hardly gave him enough time to breathe, ravishing Alfred’s mouth completely. Al grunted, wonderfully overwhelmed by it. He held onto Kiku for dear life, giving an attempt at retaliating, but ultimately enjoying letting Kiku win. 

It was much like when they had started out, but hotter, heavier, and they were no longer fully clothed. 

Their pants and gasps and sloppy kissing were the only sounds that could be heard. Alfred had returned to loving Kiku’s back, running his fingertips down it probably rougher than he had originally intended. Then, Kiku ground his hips down into Alfred’s. Al not really  _ meaning _ to, raked his nails down either side of Kiku’s spine, moaning against his lips and instinctively hooking a leg around the back of Kiku’s. Kiku hissed and arched at the sting. “Sorry,” Al managed to mumble into his mouth. Kiku laughed down at him, pulling away. 

“Ah, that’s quite alright, Alfred. Looks like we’re  _ both _ going to have little reminders of tonight.” Al reached a hand to his neck, feeling the sore spots. Alfred grinned, shrugged, and stretched out lackadaisically. 

“Whatever. I’m cool with it. Totally worth remembering anyway,” he chuckled. Kiku hummed in agreement, pressing one more loving kiss to his swollen lips, and snuggling up under Alfred’s chin on his chest. 

Alfred wrapped his arms around him happily, gently stroking his hair out of his face. 

He almost fell asleep like that. It was late, he was tired, it had been a very eventful day, and it was probably pretty understandable. Kiku had pulled his shirt up off the floorboards, covering himself with it like a blanket because he didn’t want to bother with putting it on. It was warm with Kiku on top of him and cozy. The backseat wasn’t too terribly uncomfortable. It was nice. Alfred  _ would _ have fallen asleep despite his achy muscles from all the running, but he was too busy just watching Kiku’s face, recounting all of the places and the ways that they had just kissed as he looked at his kiss-swollen, bitten lips and at the blush that was still present on his cheeks. Kiku was the first one to stir, murmuring a question into the quiet. “What do you think Mr. Arthur would do if he knew about that?” Alfred laughed.

“If Artie ever found out about us making out in his car? Oh, he’d kill me!” 

 


	17. Rumor

Alfred got home after dropping Kiku off, parking the car just how Artie would want it. He stepped out into the brisk, cutting night air, pulling his suit on a little tighter around him. He noted that the house was dark save for a faint glow in the living room. He noted Francis’ car in the driveway. Making sure to adjust his collar over the three different bruises on his neck-- Kiku didn’t disappoint when it came to hickies-- Alfred made his way to the front door. 

He walked in quietly in order not to wake anybody that could very possibly be asleep somewhere in the little house, carefully shutting the door behind him. 

Francis looked up as he came in, reading a novel by lamplight with his legs stretched out on the footstool before him. Arthur was with him, snoring up a storm on the Frenchman’s shoulder from his position on the chair between Francis’ legs. Francis smiled over at him in greeting, placing the book on an end table next to him. 

Francis stroked his lover’s face gently. “ _ Mon chou _ ?” he purred softly. Arthur grunted in response, shifting. “Alfred is home.”

“... Mmkay…” Arthur sighed sleepily. “Didn’t mean to fall asleep… You waited up for him?”

“But of course.” Arthur nodded, still not aware that Alfred was standing there. 

“‘M sorry, petal. Should’ve stayed up with you…”

“Nonsense! You’ve had a long day. As much as I enjoy the sight of you between my legs, let’s get you to bed, Kirkland,” Francis scolded him, scooping him into his arms with little complaint. Wow, Artie must have been  _ really _ tired. A. He actually used a pet name for Francis that wasn’t ‘frog’ B. He was failing to gripe at the Frenchman. 

Francis situated the Brit so that his legs were hooked around his waist and his head could rest on his shoulder as he carried him back to his room.

Alfred was going to attempt to make an escape to the shower or his room or something, but Francis was all but sprinting back to stop him from doing just that. “Waitwaitwaitwait! You haven’t told me anything yet!” Francis protested.  _ Great _ . The one man that could probably sense a hickey from a mile away just  _ had _ to be Alfred’s interrogator. Al tried his best to keep his distance, choosing to prolong the inevitable as long as possible.

“Okay, okay!” Alfred acquiesced, hands up. “But first off, is Artie okay?” he asked, stalling, but also rather worried. Francis deflated a little, shooting a look in the general direction of Arthur’s room, his brows knit together in concern. He shrugged. 

“He’s had a hard day at work. The world is cruel. He will get through it. No cause for worry,” he said. He perked up once more, clapping his hands together. “ _ Now _ , onto other matters! Your date! how did it go?”

“It went well… We went dancing. We were chased out of our little dance and ran into some newfound friends, as well as Gilbert Beilschmidt and his bird. It was fun. Very couple-y,” Alfred told him. Francis clicked his tongue. 

“I  _ do _ wish that I was the big brother that you shared the whole story with,” he sniffed. “You know me, a stickler for juicy details, no?” he smiled. “What mischief did you get up to, Alfred?” he nudged Al playfully with his shoulder. “Pinky promise not to tell.” 

“Um… Can I plead the fifth here or…?”

“No you cannot.”

“Okay,  _ fine _ ,” Alfred gave in. “We  _ might _ have snuck into the school for our dance--”

“ _ Alfred _ !” Francis put a hand over his heart. “You know I really probably  _ should _ tell your brother about that one,” he sighed dramatically. “But I  _ did _ make a promise to you… Go on…”

“But, dude! That was only because I couldn’t take my date to the  _ actual  _ school dance! Second best thing! And it was cool… I mean, I got stuck in a window… and we got chased out by this super creepy janitor… But it was nice! And the janitor guy didn’t catch us. We actually  _ literally _ ran into this soc named Matthias. He was super cool; he let us duck in his place for a bit. So… Yeah… We made some new friends: Matthias, Lukas, and I guess we’ll count Emil too,” Alfred recounted. “Oh! And while we were at their house, Gilbert came knocking on the door ‘cause his bird got away from him! Isn’t that just kizmit? We hung around and talked, then we left, then the  _ janitor guy _ chased us again; yeah he was still out looking for us! It was nuts, but we got back to the car alright.” Francis nodded thoughtfully. 

“Sounds like you had a very eventful evening,  _ mon ami _ ,” he decided. 

“I’ll say!” Alfred chuckled. Francis laughed with him good-naturedly.

“Good, good! I’m glad you enjoyed yourselves,” he mused. Francis smiled widely at him, a certain sparkle to his eyes. “Casting the illegalities aside, I’m proud of you! Very proud of you!” he clapped Alfred on the back. “How far did you go with him?” was his next question.  _ Aw. Darn it. _ Al laughed nervously, taking a step back.

“W-What? Dunno what you’re talking about. Haha!” Alfred said, mentally beating himself up after every stupid word out of his mouth. Francis raised an eyebrow, taking pity on him. 

“Ah, not to worry. You have not yet mastered the art of concealing hickies like  _ moi _ yet, but you have more than one, Alfred.” Al was blushing like crazy, not meeting the Frenchman’s eyes. Francis still had that smile on his face. Francis pinched Al’s cheek affectionately. “Big Brother Francis is so proud of you!” he cooed. “Let’s see… It’s getting cold enough where you can get away with wearing a scarf, lucky you; I can loan you one, if you like.  _ Or _ I can teach you how to properly layer foundation to render it almost entirely unnoticeable--”

“Wait, wait… You know how to do makeup… To cover hickies?” Alfred had to stop him.

“But of course! It is one of life’s greatest skills to know! Would you like me to show you?”

“... No, nope I think I’m good without the makeup, thanks… I might have to take up your offer on the scarf, though…”

“Very well, very well, that will do just fine… But I’m afraid my previous question remains unanswered. How far did you go? Tell me, _ please _ ! I must know!” Francis begged. Alfred fidgeted awkwardly, clearing his throat. 

“We… We just, and  _ please don’t tell Artie _ , we made out in the car…” Alfred admitted, his face burning. Francis patted his cheek. 

“ _ You’re so sweet _ . Not to worry, it isn’t the most action those seats have seen,” Francis informed him. Alfred made a face, not needing that image of his brother in his head… And also not needing the knowledge that such things had occurred in presumably the exact same place that Alfred just  _ was _ . 

“Okay,  _ ew _ .” Francis laughed at that. 

“I assure you that there wasn’t any ‘ew’ until afterwards,” he felt the need to say for some inexplicable reason. 

“ _ Okay. EW _ ,” Alfred protested a little louder this time. Francis snickered. 

“Alright, I’ll stop torturing you,” he placated, squeezing Alfred in a hug. “Good night,  _ mon ami _ . And I wish you many sweet dreams of your beloved.” 

 

Saturday was Arthur’s one day  _ completely _ off from work, so Alfred left him to it. When Al got home, it seemed that his brother had chosen to spend it smoking more than usual and napping. Francis  _ had _ said that his brother had had a pretty nasty day at work yesterday, so Alfred left him alone.

 

Sunday came, Alfred overslept, and Artie was already at work. Sunday passed and Arthur came home with a split lip from Ludwig Beilschmidt. Arthur didn’t want to talk, lighting up a cancer stick out on the porch and then going to bed. 

 

Monday arrived, as Mondays do. And Alfred had school. Arthur had work. Nothing unusual… Until Alfred got to school. 

He was walking through the crowd alone, no biggie there, but then.... “Hey! Jones!” Alfred looked up, meeting the eyes of a soc and his buddies all in their decked out varsity jackets leering over at him. He’d never talked to any of these guys before. Why would they be talking to him? “You a queer too?” they called over. Alfred blinked, taken aback. 

“W-What?” he coughed. They prowled over to him. Why would they be calling  _ him _ out specifically? These guys didn’t even  _ know _ him. There wasn’t anyone that really knew about his and Kiku’s dance thing. Hell, there weren’t many people who knew about  _ him and Kiku _ . What was it they had said? ‘A queer  _ too _ ’? Did something happen to Kiku where someone unsavory learned about his… preference? Or there was always Ivan and Yao, who were in his group. Or there was  _ Francis _ , who’d helped raise him. Or--

“Like your brother!” Alfred stopped at that. They must have seen the look on his face, because the ring leader went on with a more confident sneer. “Whatsa matter? Huh? Didn’t know? Was it a secret? How’s it feel having to live with a fag?”

“Oh, shut up!” Alfred snapped. They laughed at him. 

“Don’t like to talk about it? C’mon, Alfie, now, show us where big bubby touched you.” Alfred’s only response was to give him the finger, trying to turn away. “He didn’t answer the question, boys,” Ring Leader said to his gang. Emblazoned jackets blocked Alfred’s way. “So? What? Are you a cocksucker like your big bro?” Alfred shoved roughly through the line of them, ears burning in fury and humiliation alike.  _ God _ , how Al wanted to knock out those pearly white front teeth of his. He could hear their guffaws at his back, as well as the snickers of those passing by. 

Alfred had no idea how they knew about Arthur. He didn’t care. Whoever had spread this about his brother and whoever had helped was going to be dead meat the moment he found out. 

Alfred wished he could say that it was an isolated incident that he could just talk through with Artie later, but it  _ wasn’t _ . Oh no, because random people that Alfred didn’t know, some that he hadn’t even  _ seen  _ before, felt the need to shout their comments out from down the hall. Because the class slacker in math had to keep passing notes with jabbing little questions and indirect insults. Because the designated thug in English had to blow spit balls at the back of his head. Because his history teacher had to keep him after class and inquire about his home life. If he felt safe at home. If his brother made him feel uncomfortable at all. If his brother’s  _ boyfriend _ made him feel unsafe. If he had been exposed to his brother having relations. And  _ on _ and  _ on _ like that before finally he announced he had to go. 

He had no idea how everyone just  _ suddenly knew _ , but that was how rumors tended to work. Alfred got home, throwing his backpack with all his might onto the couch to keep him from punching a wall. Through his haze of distress, he noticed the stench. 

Cigarette smoke. 

Alfred went looking through the house, no longer sure that he was home alone. Wielding his handy dandy baseball bat, he nudged open one door after another. He poked Arthur’s bedroom door open with his foot and…

Arthur sloppily stubbed out another used cigarette butt in an ashtray already crowded with them. He sat back, looking through Alfred blankly, refilling his glass with ale. “What are you  _ doing _ ?” Alfred almost yelled to get his attention. Arthur looked at him tiredly, taking a long draught of the alcohol. 

“Why’ve ya got yer bat?” Arthur countered, his words slurred. 

“... Because you shouldn’t be home yet and you never smoke inside. I thought maybe someone had broken in. Why aren’t you at work? What’s wrong?” Alfred tossed his bat aside carelessly. 

“Got fired,” was all Artie said after a long pause. 

“What? What happened?”

“That… That  _ Ludwig _ is what. I dunno how he did it, but he told people… Or he started a rumor…  _ God, I don’t know _ , but it’s  _ his  _ fault and everyone knows ‘bout Francis and me…” Arthur buried his face in his hands. Alfred’s mind was whirling. 

“But? Ludwig Beilschmidt and Feliciano Vargas are  _ together _ together,” Alfred pointed out. “Why would he do that?”

“To get at me! That’s why! I dunno… Maybe it wasn’t the brute’s idea… Wouldn’t be the Italian. Might’ve been the other one, the Jap, that came up with it…” Alfred’s blood ran cold, but Arthur was moving on. “ _ I don’t know _ ! But it was those three and now I don’t have a job  _ and I can’t pay rent without it _ and I couldn’t afford last month’s rent either, so I was going to double up this time around and…? What am I going t’ do?!” Alfred decided it best  _ not _ to bring up the school incident. He approached his brother, suppressing a gag at the smell, and patted him on the back. 

“It’ll be fine! You can look for another job--” Alfred tried to reassure him.

“No one’ll take me. They all hate me. Everyone knows. No business wants that working for them where the customers can see… I don’t even know if anyone will even take  _ you _ because of  _ me _ …” 

“Hey, we’ll figure it out! It’s not the end of the world, Artie. Does Francis know about your job?”

“No!” Arthur snapped suddenly. “The frog doesn’t need to know anything about it either,” he growled pointedly at Alfred. 

“Arthur, he can help us out and you know it.”

“No.”

“But--”

“I said  _ no _ !” 

“ _ Fine _ ! Sit here in your room smelling like a cheap bar! But sooner or later  _ one of us _ is going to call Francis and tell him what happened.” Alfred slammed the door to Artie’s bedroom. Their landlord was a jerk as it was. Now? Alfred didn’t even want to think about it. He looked over at the house phone. But he wasn’t thinking about contacting Francis. He just  _ really _ needed to talk to Kiku about this whole mess. 

But he couldn’t bring himself to dial the number. 

 

Alfred skipped school the next day. It wasn’t worth the stress and Artie was  _ uber _ hungover. He didn’t call Kiku then either. 

But Francis stopped by out of concern, spurred on by Arthur not contacting him since the whole mess started and Matthew saying that Alfred hadn’t been at school. Francis was a whole lot more useful when it came to taking care of someone who was sick. It was when Francis came back from the kitchen with soup to try to get something into Arthur’s system that the truth came out. 

Francis watched his lover explain over steepled fingers. “I had no idea that your feud would escalate to such a thing,” the man said, finally. Arthur shook his head at the ceiling. 

“It was a low blow and it’s costing me, in every way,” the Brit agreed. Francis took his hand, playing with his fingers lightly. 

“I could help you, you know…” Francis all but whispered, knowing full well what Arthur’s response would be. A refusal. 

“I don’t need help. From anybody. I appreciate the offer, but I can pull through this. I’ll get a  _ new _ job  _ somewhere _ . Alfred can get a job too; it’s about time the boy gets some experience under his belt. I’ll talk with the landlord. I’ll get the rent paid. This whole stupid thing will blow over eventually. I’m not going to throw up my hands in defeat just because there’s an obstacle in my way,” Arthur declared, putting his other hand over Francis’ with a small smile. 

 

The whole stupid thing should blow over eventually. Eventually. The snide little comments didn’t let up at school. Arthur had been busy, having applied for three different jobs while Alfred was still prepping for his first job interview at a fast food place that probably only let him get that far because he was a regular. Arthur had been turned down, not even called back to discuss meeting for an interview, every single time. His big brother was persistent, though, and was still looking for another opportunity to give a try. 

It was bad. It was all just  _ bad _ . Artie was trying his very hardest to go against his nature and stay positive, saying that everything was fine (or that it would be). Alfred knew that that was denial in its purest and simplest form. But he couldn’t lose hope. If Al got the job, then he’d be able to help out at least a little bit with their situation. 

Which was exactly why he was scared out of his wits about it. He felt there was quite a bit of pressure on him to get the job,  _ because they needed the help _ . 

Alfred hadn’t talked to Kiku since the rumor had infested the population, but he was determined to change that. He  _ needed _ the pick-me-up, the reassurance that being with him always brought. It was just… The whole, ‘it was Ludwig and his group that caused all of this’ thing really got to him. 

Nevertheless, he found himself dialing the familiar number. It only rang twice. “Hello?” greeted a hopeful voice on the other side. Alfred broke into a smile at the sound of his voice. 

“Hey, babe,” he breathed. 

“Alfred! I have been worried. Are you okay? Is your brother okay? Why haven’t you called?” he questioned, concern thick in his voice. 

“Yeah… Yeah, we’re alive… Hey, can I come over?”

“O-Of course…”

 

It didn’t take too terribly long for Al to show up at his doorstep. He knocked, his stomach not in the usual fluttery butterflies, but more of a stressed churn. He was sure that it would properly hit him eventually that he was going to see  _ Kiku _ , though. 

Sure enough, as promised, Kiku threw open the door, analyzing Alfred’s every feature with worry. And Alfred felt himself smile again, his heart skipping a beat for the first time in what felt like a while. Kiku wordlessly ushered him in, closing the door behind him. 

The moment they were alone, Kiku stood on tiptoes, cupping Alfred’s face in both hands and staring at him for a good five seconds or so. He ran a thumb across the blond’s cheek. “You look tired,” Kiku said finally. Alfred chuckled at that. 

“I  _ am _ . There’s been a lot to deal with lately,” he pointed out. Kiku squeezed his eyes closed, pressing their foreheads together. 

“I know,” he whispered. “I know you have… Will you sit with me for a while?” he asked after a long pause as if he were scared that Alfred would say ‘no’. Alfred pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. 

“Wouldn’t be here otherwise, now would I?”

And so Alfred found himself with his head resting on Kiku’s lap, neither of them talking. Not really knowing where to start. “I have to get a  _ job _ …” Alfred sighed into the air, tugging off his scarf in annoyance. “I’ve got an interview at McDonalds and everything… But I dunno if I can do this… And it’s really stressing me out…” Kiku absently touched the fading bruises he’d left on Al’s neck, trying to decide what to say. 

“I think they will not regret for a second having you on their workforce. You would work well with the customers with your generally bright personality and friendliness. You also all but have the menu memorized,” Kiku said. “I believe you are a more than worthy candidate… And that if for whatever reason they do not choose to hire you, it will be their own loss.” Al smiled. 

“Thanks, Kiks… But Arthur is having a lot of trouble getting a new job too after he lost his. They fired him… and now nobody seems to want him… And it’s a legitimate concern that I might have the same problem, being his younger brother… And we couldn’t pay rent last month, apparently, and Artie said he was gonna double up this time around and it’s coming up and neither us have jobs and our landlord is a flaming piece of shit and we’re just in trouble no matter how much Artie wants to deny it and Artie won’t accept Francis’ help and I think we’re gonna lose the house--” Alfred cut his rambling off, forcing a smile. “I think I need a hug.” Kiku gave a single nod and through an unspoken agreement, Alfred got up to be easier to actually  _ hug _ .

Kiku wrapped his arms around his middle, burying his face in his chest, and almost crushed him from squeezing so hard. Alfred didn’t want him to let go, for fear that he would break apart if Kiku stopped holding him together. Al didn’t know how long they stood there like that, a long time, but not long enough. Kiku slackened his death grip, still leaning his head against Alfred’s shirt. He was too cute. Alfred almost couldn’t bring himself to address the elephant in the room. Almost. “Kiks?”

“Yes?”

“Did you know anything about this whole rumor thing?” There, it was out there. Kiku didn’t look up, his arms tightening around Alfred’s waist. 

“Yes…” he said shakily. “But it’s not what you think!” he gushed when Alfred tensed. “I only learned about it after it was too late; when the rumor had already been started and the damage was irreversible. I had nothing to do with it, I swear. I  _ did _ know that it had been done before  _ you _ found out, though, and I am sorry I didn’t tell you. I was hoping that maybe it would die out before it got particularly bad. Believe me,  _ none _ of us three thought it would come  _ this  _ far, but Ludwig isn’t backing away from it now that it has; he and Arthur have been on such bad terms lately… I’m sorry, I--” Alfred stopped him with a hand tilting his chin up to meet his eyes. 

“Hey, hey, hey…” Alfred soothed, hugging him again. “I believe you. I just had to ask. I don’t blame you for anything. Promise.” Kiku nodded to show he understood. 

“Okay,” he breathed. “Okay… I still want to apologize for all of this misfortune that’s befallen you. Ludwig really isn’t a bad guy; this was cold for him…”

“Whatever. Doesn’t matter. Let’s just… Let’s talk about something else? Please?”

“Yes, yes, of course…” Kiku coughed awkwardly. “Would you care for some tea or…?” he offered. Alfred shook his head, smile still rather forced. 

“I’ll have to pass. Artie’s been practically drowning me in the stuff lately.”

“I see. That is quite alright. Would you at least stay for dinner?” Kiku asked. Alfred kissed the top of his head. 

“Could never pass up your cooking,” he accepted without much fuss, remembering when Kiku had made him  _ the best sushi he’d ever tasted _ . 

“Very well,” Kiku allowed a small smile to slip. “Is there any particular dish you would like above all else?” he asked, already making his way towards the kitchen. Alfred shrugged, his stomach already growling in anticipation. 

“Just whatever you’d think I’d like, I guess. ‘M starvin’.” Kiku nodded, moving to glance through his cabinets, grabbing ingredients as he went. Alfred hopped up on the counter, watching after him fondly as he set about filling a pot with water and turning on the stove to the proper temperature. “Anyway I can help?” Al asked. Kiku thought for a second before nodding and setting him to work, asking him to fetch things, stir things, etc. etc. 

It felt a lot more like being home there with him, busying about his kitchen to follow the directions, than  _ home _ had in a while. The  _ home _ that he shared with Arthur was hardly anything more than moving from one stress source to another. 

School was hellish; the whole inciting incident with the socs was really just the beginning. Compared to some of the crap he’d dealt with,  _ that _ was nothing. Because they couldn’t  _ just _ tease him about Arthur. No, they had to go after  _ Francis _ too and… Some even had the temerity to bring  _ Matthew _ into it. Arthur and Francis were the targets of the rumor. Alfred was the target of the school bullying because most of the snot-nosed kids wouldn’t have it in them to say it to an adult’s face. Matthew should have been left alone; ignored like he sadly was a lot, if anything. Now, Alfred could  _ handle _ some hood that was just talking badly about Mattie to rile up Al. But when they  _ physically _ went after Matthew, knocking his books out of his hands, shoving him back and forth, and mocking him about Francis like they did to Alfred about Arthur… Well. Alfred had gotten there first, slinging them away from him, and helping his bro up and out of there. He didn’t bother with the jerks; Gilbert Beilschmidt had gotten there second. And beat the living  _ tar _ out of anyone that he got his hands on. Gil was sent home for it, but not before grabbing Ludwig’s shirt in his fist and yelling at him furiously in German. 

School was horrid, but home wasn’t great either. It was quieter, less chaotic, but it was also permeated with a festering sense of impending doom. Arthur was there, holed up in his room most hours, but his stress radiated through the house along with the smell of tea he was almost constantly brewing and the stink of cigarettes that was constantly about him nowadays. It was a tense silence most of the time that neither of them broke with music, thus creating the perfect atmosphere to do nothing but worry. 

But it didn’t feel that way with Kiku. He felt, for whatever reason, as if there was some weight off his shoulders. That he could take a step back and just  _ breathe _ . 

Alfred slid off the counter and walked up behind Kiku, sliding his arms around his petite frame and looking over his shoulder as he cooked. Kiku ignored him for the most part, staying focused on their dinner. Al leaned his chin on Kiku’s shoulder, smiling slightly when he felt Kiku’s head lean against his a little in acknowledgement. Alfred sighed. “I’m tired,” he decided to say. 

“I know. This will take a while to make; feel free to lay down,” Kiku told him softly. Alfred smiled, pressing a sweet, lingering kiss to Kiku’s jaw. 

“Will you be joining me?” Alfred asked curiously. Kiku thought about it for a second or two before shrugging. 

“I suppose. It is not necessary I stand here and watch it cook.” Alfred cheered happily, making Kiku roll his eyes at him.

Alfred ran one way as Kiku started off in another. They stopped and stared at each other. “Where are ya goin’?” Alfred asked, giving him an odd look, assuming Kiku had been offering up the couch. Kiku blushed, fidgeting awkwardly. 

“I thought that…” he cleared his throat. “I thought my room would be more preferable?” Alfred blushed too. Oh. Kiku waved his hands in a ‘ _ no, wait! _ ’ gesture. “No! I mean… It is much more comfortable than the sofa…” he trailed off, realizing that that wording wasn’t any better. Kiku buried his scarlet face in his hands in his mortification. Alfred smiled, taking pity on him and hugging him snugly with a laugh. Al kissed the top of his head. 

“I getcha, I getcha. You’re fine,” he laughed, stroking some hair out of Kiku’s face as he pulled back. “Well, lead me to your bedroom, then, sweetheart,” Alfred grinned toothily. Kiku smacked his chest scoldingly, making Al laugh again. Alfred, still smiling, held out his hand for Kiku to take, which he did, almost shyly. Alfred trailed behind him as Kiku led him to his sleeping quarters, the two of them connected loosely by the hands. 

Alfred had been in that particular room only once before; when he’d shown up in the wee hours of the morning with McDonald's to talk manga. It was mostly the same as that time, except for maybe a few more manga books added to Kiku’s collection. And yet it was completely different… or it  _ felt _ that way anyway, because Alfred and Kiku weren’t  _ just _ two friends hanging out anymore. 

Al flopped down on Kiku’s cushiony bed, letting his head roll to the side to watch as Kiku joined him, choosing to sit upright against the wall. He had a weird bed, its frame barely off the ground. Alfred had never really asked him about it. “Why is your bed so low to the floor?” Al decided to ask to break the ice a little. Kiku chuckled. 

“That is because it is a Japanese futon,” he explained, smiling down at the American. Alfred nodded. 

“Hmm. Cool.” The blond wriggled around, getting comfy. “It’s nice,” Al commented. “Haven’t been sleeping right on my own bed since forever…” He sighed, rolling onto his stomach and stretching out on the pillowy surface. “My back hurts even now,” he noted. Kiku leaned down next to his face, Alfred turning to catch his lips. 

“I could rub it for you,” Kiku said, eyes closed as they moved to share another kiss. “Yao was interested in becoming a masseur; he taught me well, I would think.” Alfred kissed him one more time before answering. 

“You’re  _ already _ making me dinner and letting me nap in your bed and now you’re offering me a massage?” He and Kiku were both smiling into their next slow kiss. “You don’t have to, Kiks.” 

“Well…” Kiku hummed, running a thumb absently along Al’s bottom lip. “Consider yourself spoiled, then,” he decided as he ducked down once more to press his mouth to Alfred’s. Kiku sat up, taking a minute to figure out what position would be easiest before settling on straddling him, sitting in the curve of Al’s lower back. 

Alfred put his head on his arms, resting his eyes. And then, Kiku went to work, starting with his shoulders. 

Alfred had to resist the urge to let out a groan of pleasure because Kiku  _ really _ knew what he was doing. He didn’t know how Kiku did it, but it felt  _ so good _ . Alfred came to the conclusion in that moment that masseurs should be millionaires. ‘Cause that’s what it felt like-- a million bucks. 

And that was just the upper shoulders. Then, Kiku moved onto the area just to the side of his shoulder blades, working circles into the muscle there. Alfred actually  _ did _ groan this time. “S’ good… Yao taught you well,” Alfred said, muffled by his head in his arms and the fact that he was practically drooling. Kiku chuckled at him. Yeah, he knew. 

Alfred was actually averagely sure that Kiku was some sort of angel or other divine/celestial being by the time he fell asleep, completely relaxed at his touch, with Kiku still kneading and rubbing at the portion of his back that he wasn’t using as a chair.

 

Alfred woke up to movement all too soon. Kiku had been trying not to wake him, the Japanese boy wincing when he realized he  _ had _ as he went to remove himself from Alfred’s limp embrace. Al assumed that Kiku had realized he was asleep and crawled under one of his arms judging by his position. Al smiled sleepily over at him, hugging him close with the single arm draped over him to press a small kiss to his temple. Kiku smiled back, taking his face in his hands and kissing him fully. 

Alfred was still on his stomach, his head on the arm that wasn’t Kiku’s, turned slightly toward the other body’s warmth. Al kissed him back, revelling in the slow, peaceful contentment of it all until Kiku grudgingly stopped. “I’m sorry, I have to go make sure the food does not burn,” he apologized. Alfred yawned, nodding and releasing him.

He rolled over onto his back to watch Kiku depart; hated to see him go, loved to watch him leave, as they say. Al allowed himself a minute or so to remain blissfully immobile before hopping up to shuffle after Kiku. 

The kitchen smelled  _ amazing _ , bringing Alfred’s growly belly to attention once more. Kiku was already busying about, shrimp now sizzling on the stove as he added salt and some kind of sauce stuff to the fried rice. Kiku wasn’t about to leave him hanging until it was completely finished, sticking a rice ball that he seemed to have procured out of nowhere in his mouth when he opened it to say something. Al hummed in appreciation, quieting down to eat the tasty little morsel. 

He could really get used to this. 

But alas, he had to go home sometime. And to school. And to a job interview. And maybe a job after that. 

_ But _ there was nothing stopping him from coming right back to Kiku after all was said and done. It was a comforting thought. 

The rice ball did its job to hold him over, but the moment Kiku announced the fried rice and shrimp complete, Alfred’s mouth was watering like crazy. 

Luckily Kiku had made plenty. Al loaded his plate with rice and shrimp after Kiku had gotten his helping. He then proceeded to hungrily shovel a large forkful into his mouth. 

Now , Alfred knew that Kiku was a great cook for a fact, but when he got a taste of his fried rice? Well, Alfred was basically the embodiment of the phrase ‘the fastest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach’. Honestly, Alfred could very much see his future self letting Kiku fuck him into the mattress after treating Al to such a dinner. Kiku was too frickin’ amazing. Alfred couldn’t even put it into words; he just kind of sat there staring between his plate and the person sitting across from him. “Wow,” was the word he decided upon after a while. “Wow, this is  _ awesome _ ! I’m so lucky to have someone as brilliant as you, you know that?” Kiku blushed at the praise. 

“I am glad you like it so much,” Kiku replied. The dark-haired boy leaned across the table, offering a shrimp on his fork. “Let’s see if the rice is not the only thing that turned out okay.” Alfred took the shrimp in his mouth from the utensil, sitting back to savor the taste. Al’s face brightened after a moment or two as he came to his conclusion.  

“Yeah, alright, do you use some kind of witchcraft in your cooking or what? ‘Cause I swear, food this good just isn’t natural, dude.” Alfred grinned, getting on to eating the rest of his expertly prepared meal. 

Approximately 10 minutes later, Alfred collapsed onto Kiku’s couch, utterly stuffed with Kiku’s cooking. Al knew he should probably get around to going home, but then again he could also  _ not _ do that. He could afford to stay for  _ a little _ longer… Especially considering Kiku had just walked into the room. 

Alfred opened his arms invitingly to him. “Post-dinner cuddle?” he asked. Kiku raised an eyebrow at him, walking over and running a hand through his blond hair. 

“Only if you promise never to say that again,” Kiku said, letting a smile slip. Alfred looked up at him as if he’d grown two heads. 

“Well, what else am I supposed to call it?” Alfred countered, laughing. Kiku rolled his eyes, joining him on the couch. The Jap hovered above him with hands on either side of Al’s head, looking down into Alfred’s eyes. 

“Anything but that,” Kiku told him. Al grinned mischievously. “And please do not try to make me take those words back,” he added, just to be safe. Curses. Foiled again. Alfred chuckled, hugging Kiku to him happily. It was lovely just lying there with him…

“After-supper snuggle?” Al suggested. 

“Please stop.”

“... Evening-time boyfriend clump?” he whispered. 

“ _ Alfred _ ,  _ I swear _ .” Al laughed wholeheartedly, stroking Kiku’s hair fondly for a moment. 

“Can I call you my boyfriend, though? I mean, I kind of guess that’s what we  _ are _ , but neither of us have  _ actually _ brought it up--” Alfred found himself rambling, halting in his tracks as Kiku propped himself up to look at him. 

“Yes, of course,” Kiku said after a long pause. “Just as long as I also get to refer to you as  _ my _ boyfriend,” he said shyly. 

Great, now both of them were all blushy and embarrassed. 

Alfred leaned up to kiss him in order to hide it. Kiku kissed him back with a satisfied sigh. Al rested his hands on his  _ boyfriend’s _ hips as one of Kiku’s gently slid to the area he had left Alfred hickeys. 

It was slow, lippy kisses with just  _ hints _ of tongues and Alfred was loving it. Kiku smelled like his cooking and tea and his usual musk. The heat of his body on Alfred’s warded off any cold stakes in his heart caused by thinking about the future. The rough texture of the denim under his hands as he held to Kiku. The soft pressure of Kiku’s beautiful lips on his. Kiku’s palm that wasn’t cupping the American’s neck flat against his chest, feeling his heartbeat. It was all perfect for letting reality fade away... 

And then the phone rang shrilly, making them both flinch at the sudden noise intruding on their peace. 

Kiku groaned irritably, moving to get off of him. Alfred whined, locking his legs around his waist so he couldn’t leave. Kiku sighed at him, but went with it, stretching to reach the nearest telephone and managing to grab the receiver. “Yes, hello?” Kiku answered, leaning on an elbow. “Ah, good evening, Yao. How may I help you?” Alfred leaned back and sighed. Well, he had the boy in a pretty compromising position after his efforts to get him to stay… and now he had to wait for him to get off the phone to get any attention… 

… That didn’t mean he had to make it easy for him, though. 

Alfred kissed down Kiku’s neck from his jaw to the hollow of his throat, doing it as sensually as possible, taking his sweet time as he felt the vibrations of Kiku talking against his mouth. Kiku curled a hand in Al’s hair, either in warning or encouragement, Alfred couldn’t tell. 

Alfred breathed deeply in the scent of him, grazing his teeth against the skin right below his ear. Kiku coughed to cover a little gasping noise. 

And a need to get Kiku to do that again was basically what started Alfred’s search to see if he was particularly sensitive anywhere. 

Just when Al was starting to believe that he  _ wasn’t _ , he got to an area just below the crook of his neck and above his collarbone and Kiku let out a brief, staccato’d whimper… and then feigned an awkward coughing fit for lack of a better idea. Al heard Yao ask if Kiku was alright and allowed himself a silent snicker. Perfect.

He latched onto the area, sucking and biting and laving over any resulting soreness he may have caused. Kiku was  _ trying _ to keep up with his conversation, but he was  _ slightly _ distracted. The breaking point, though, was when Alfred moved one of his hands upwards to push Kiku flush against him. “Yao, I apologize, but I must call you back…” Kiku fumbled to hang up the telephone quickly. 

Then, he looked back down at Alfred with a piercing gaze that sent a delicious shiver down his spine and set his heart pounding. Al grinned as if to say ‘ _ well, what did you expect from me? _ ’. Kiku pulled back his t-shirt to expose the pretty impressive hickey he had left. Alfred didn’t realize that he was holding his breath, waiting for Kiku’s reaction, until he spoke again. “Was that necessary?” Kiku asked finally. Alfred shrugged, chuckling like an ornery child. Kiku sighed, shaking his head at him. “Come here, you.” Kiku reunited their lips once more with a controlled fervor and it felt like a breath of fresh air at the same time that his breath was being stolen away. He pulled away much too soon, leaving Alfred all but keening for more. Kiku gave his lips one more peck. “Hmm…” Kiku hummed in amusement. “So needy,” he teased, splaying a hand on one of Alfred’s hips. Al blushed, suddenly hyperaware of the position of his legs. Kiku took pity on him, kissing him again… and again… until his worries melted away once more, always staying true to their initial lazy pace.

It was an evening of slow, adoring kisses through an almost sleepy haze. Alfred honestly couldn’t pinpoint an exact moment where their sweet, doting kisses, whether they be Eskimo, French, or butterfly, came to an end and they just lied there. Close and warm and content and full of good food. 


	18. Perfect, Shining Moments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This IS a completed fic. It's just a matter of me uploading it and editing it chapter by chapter. I'm trying to get that done within a reasonable time, but it takes a little bit. Thank you guys so much for reading this! It means so much!

But, perfect, shining moments don’t last. That’s what makes them special, after all. Alfred had to go home. Alfred had to go to school. Alfred had to go to his job interview. 

He’d absorbed all of the advice from Arthur and Francis he could on the subject of impressing a potential employer. He’d dressed nice, he’d done everything he was supposed to do. He was actually hopeful about it. 

Until, of course, the interviewer he was speaking all professional-like with looked him in the eyes with a fake smile and asked about his home life a little too randomly to be casual. 

 

He never was contacted by them again. 

 

Arthur saw it in his face too. Alfred was already close to breaking down; Artie’s tight hug and reassurance that it ‘wasn’t Alfred’s fault’ really didn’t help with that. 

 

They didn’t make the rent payment. The landlord gave them 30 days. Francis didn’t know until day 12, when Alfred told him, because Artie was still convinced that they had options. 

But it wasn’t all bad. There was a light in the darkness. Francis welcomed the two of them with open arms, taking them in, joking that he always knew that he’d get Arthur to move in with him someday. Even if it was presumably only a temporary arrangement. 

Alfred stood by Arthur, holding onto a stuffed suitcase, Kiku’s words wishing him luck ringing through his head from the last phone call he made in his childhood home. Francis and Matthew had a nice place. Alfred had honestly never thought that he’d find himself staying in such a house for more than a brief visit, but there he was. 

Francis threw open the front door, smiling at them encouragingly, ushering them forward and telling them not to be shy. He closed the door behind them, giving them a couple seconds to stare around the room through new eyes. Francis clapped his hands together softly. “Alfred, you can take the spare room that you stayed in before next to Matthieu’s room,” he said, patting the American on the shoulder before he turned to Arthur, almost uncharacteristically hesitant for him. “And Arthur…” Francis cleared his throat. “You are more than welcome to stay with me, but,” he rushed on, just in case, “there is another spare room, and I’ve gotten it  _ mostly _ cleared out for you, if you would prefer. Whatever would make you most comfortable,  _ mon cher _ ; don’t feel obligated to choose either way--” Arthur stopped him with a hand cupping his jaw. 

“Don’t be so thick. Of course I’ll share with you,” he scolded. Francis broke into a grin, looking away and nodding, resting his own hand over Arthur’s. 

“Very well,” Francis croaked hoarsely, his eyes shining. Arthur scoffed, but he was smiling too. 

“Oh, don’t get emotional on me,” he grinned. “Frog,” he added for good measure. Francis sniffed a little, kissing Arthur’s knuckle. 

“You must forgive me. It’s just rather hard to believe that you’re here. And that you’re staying.” Arthur shot a hesitant glance at Alfred, but sighed, nodding. 

“I know.” He gave a squeeze to Francis’ hand. “But that  _ is _ the case… And I don’t suppose it can be  _ too  _ bad…” Arthur let a small smirk bleed into his expression. It’d been awhile since Alfred had seen him show any signs of being  _ remotely _ happy. “Now,” he continued, allowing himself an actual, if careful, smile. “Make yourself useful and take me to our room.” He elbowed Francis playfully, not able to meet his eyes. 

“ _ Our _ room,” Francis mused. “That sounds  _ nice _ , yes?” Arthur rolled his eyes, grabbing up his bags. 

“Oh  _ shut it _ , will you?”

Alfred left them to their banter and settling in properly together. Matthew offered him a smile as he came upstairs, lugging his suitcase behind him. “Would you like some help?” he asked Alfred quietly. Alfred shook his head, waving him off goodnaturedly. 

“Nah, bro. I’ve got it. But thanks, though.” Alfred walked into his new room, taking a look around it. He dropped his suitcase on the floor. No need to bother with it at that moment; he’d unpack in his own time. 

Alfred jumped up on the bed, testing the bounciness of it as he’d be staying a while. The room wasn’t really furnished aside from the bed and a convenient bedside table with a telephone on it. Just a guest room, but now Alfred had a certain claim to it. 

Kinda funny. A greaser in a soc bedroom. 

Al stared up at the ceiling for a bit, just listening to the new sounds of the environment that would be his for who-knows-how-long. There were no shrieks of police sirens or drunken hoods shouting or laughing at each other that were commonplace back in Alfred’s neighborhood. No roaring drag racing down the streets. Just the purrs of nice cars cruising around town to pass the time and show off how nice they were. He closed his eyes, not feeling half bad, if a little knocked out of place. 

Alfred pulled off his leather jacket that still smelled like his and Artie’s house, but probably wouldn’t for much longer (not that that was a bad thing), and tossed it across the room. There-- now it was a little less pristine and bare. Better. Maybe he  _ could _ get used to this. The whole gang was together now, after all. With Alfred, Artie, Francis, and Mattie all under the same roof it  _ did _ feel kind of like the family was back together, even if it had never  _ really _ been  _ together _ in the first place. 

He rolled over onto his side, reaching for the phone to break in the ol’ place with a call to Kiku. 

The thing was, the phone line was already in use. Al picked it up, expecting to hear the dial tone, but instead heard  _ Matthew _ talking. Something about explaining a pancake recipe. Alfred literally just wanted to see who was on the other end, ‘cause seriously, who talks about pancakes over the phone? Then, once Matthew was finished, none other than Gilbert Beilschmidt spoke up. 

Al honestly wasn’t incredibly surprised. 

“Aw, thanks, Matthew… I will have to make some at the first opportunity!”

“Did you get it written down?” Matthew inquired. 

“Well,  _ duh _ ! What sort of fool do you take me for?! Pshaw! The awesome  _ me _ not taking notes on  _ Matthew William’s _ awesome pancake recipe?! How stupid would a person have to  _ be _ ?! I’ve got it all right here,  _ mein lieb _ . Don’t you worry,” Gilbert proclaimed. Mattie chuckled at him and Gil cleared his throat. “Yeah… I’ll have to make Ludwig some… See if it cheers ‘im up. He won’t admit it, but I can see it. This isn’t an easy mistake for him to have to deal with…”

“Well…” Mattie chose his words carefully. “Then I hope he enjoys them… and I hope he knows that I think things are starting to look up for us…? It may be a troublesome time, but we all go through them. Besides, Alfred and Arthur are basically family. We’re glad to have them with us, despite the circumstances… And Francis? I don’t think I’ve ever seen him like this. Gilbert, you should see him, he’s all but  _ glowing _ having Arthur here… I guess, sometimes mistakes don’t always have all negative consequences… and I wouldn’t mind at all if you told your brother that.” Gilbert sighed deeply. 

“ _ Yes _ , but… You can’t pretend that he  _ didn’t _ screw up  _ majorly _ with this. I mean, he’s my _B_ _ ruder _ and I love him, of course I do-- he’s family-- but… Look at what this has  _ caused _ ! They went after  _ you _ , Mattie!” Gilbert reminded him. Matthew was silent for a long time, but when he did speak again, Alfred could picture him shrugging.

“So? People attack what they don’t understand, pick it apart, see how it reacts. They like to see if it goes away, because it’s weird to them. It’s human nature, unfortunately for  _ all _ of us, just as making mistakes-- even the big ones--- is. I’m sorry, but… I don’t hold a grudge about any of this... because it’s childish and silly and definitely not worth it,” Matthew told him. Gilbert chuckled darkly. 

“Then I guess you’re a better man than I…” he said sincerely. “I’m still going to make Ludwig some pancakes, though. Feliciano has been over practically 24/7 and drowning the man in Italian. The poor guy could probably go for some Williams’ Pancakes: Prussian Edition,” Gil added. 

Al hung up the phone... Mattie was such a cool little brother. 

 

Francis and Arthur pooled their skills for an almost ceremonial family dinner sort of thing. It only resulted in one minor fire ( _ but _ Arthur  _ was  _ put on dessert duty after that, because he wasn’t atrocious at  _ that _ all the time). It was, in the choice words of a certain Prussian,  _ awesome _ . Stories were told and good food was eaten and laughs were shared. Francis and Artie tried to inconspicuously hold hands under the table, Matthew letting them, but Alfred complaining jokingly about PDA just to inform them how  _ not _ inconspicuous they were (only for Francis to scoff at him, take Arthur’s face in both hands, and kiss him deeply and thoroughly breathless; Matthew smiled into his drinking glass while Alfred cringed like a kid worried about cooties). Francis and Matthew casually chatted in French, not really realizing they’d slipped languages until Alfred asked what the heck they were talking about and Arthur scolded them teasingly. It was just… pretty cool to have an actual dinner like that. 

And afterwards, Alfred finally got in his call to Kiku… And ended up at his place with a bouquet of roses to take him to the picture show, the two of them sitting in the back row of the dark room to hold pinky fingers in the corner because holding hands was a bit much. 

The only con of staying at Francis’ that Alfred could see? He wasn’t in reasonable walking distance to Kiku’s house.  _ But _ , Artie could  _ also _ let Al borrow his car a whole lot more because now they had  _ Francis’ _ car too (and Francis always walked downtown to visit the offices of the bottling company his family wine business was in cahoots with or to meet with somebody-- the main reasons he left the house besides taking Mattie to and from school).

Kiku kissed him goodbye at the door, thanking him for the movie date, telling him he was glad Alfred was content to be at Francis and Matthew’s, wishing him and his family good fortune, and asking bashfully if he could see Alfred again soon. Alfred smiled, giving him another quick kiss. “Thanks, Kiks!” And another smooch because he couldn’t help himself. “I’ll see you soon as I can, sweetheart,” he promised, entwining their fingers for just a second more. 


	19. Paint

Francis Bonnefoy walked down the street with his thumbs in his pockets, smiling to himself as he listened to his friend’s tale. Life was generally going  _ well _ . Arthur and Alfred had joined him in his humble abode merely a week ago, but it felt as though they had always  _ belonged _ there. They had simply just gotten around to coming home. 

Roderich Edelstein was huffily going on about the incompetence of the city band/orchestra he directed for a living with their new piece; one of Roderich’s own compositions. Francis felt for him; his Austrian companion was truly a composer and solo performer at heart. Roderich was an undeniably charming man in all respects; he was a  _ truly _ talented musician and artist. “I swear, I am just waiting for the day when my creative genius receives the recognition it deserves. Then, I could possibly be  _ free _ of this pigsty,” Roderich sniffed, looking down his nose over his glasses at the ground as if it had personally wronged him. Francis placed a hand on his shoulder comfortingly. 

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about,  _ mon ami _ . You are doing well for yourself, no? Financially, of course, with your occupation, oh, but more than that! One of your own works is going to be played by your pupils. What better opportunity to be ‘recognized’, as you say? They may seem blundering fools  _ now _ , but I think that perhaps with compassion… and patience… you will succeed together,” Francis advised, smiling over at his friend. Roderich raised an eyebrow over at him. 

“Clearly you have never attempted preparing and directing a band for presentation,” was all he had to say to Francis’ sage words. 

Soon after that, the growl of a car engine grew in a crescendo until it was pulled over just ahead of them. Francis and Roderich both looked up with an air of mild disinterest. Francis could see the shift in Roderich’s posture out of the corner of his eye. “Oi! You, there!” called a voice that Francis’ acquaintance knew better than he did. Roderich was alert, hugging his music books closer to him, lifting his chin, straightening his spine. Francis resisted a knowing smile. 

“Basch,” Roderich identified in a way of greeting. 

“Edelstein,” Basch Zwingli reciprocated with a stiff nod and set jaw. Francis was more than likely the only one that picked up on the minute lingering of their eye contact before Basch could force himself away to acknowledge him. “Mr. Bonnefoy,” the Swiss man gave him a nod too. 

“Ah, good evening, Mr. Zwingli. What brings you here tonight?” Francis said politely. Basch cleared his throat; a means of stalling in order to avoid choosing the wrong words. 

“I was just on my way to pick up Lily from Girl Scouts. I couldn’t help but wonder if you would like a lift home?” Basch’s intention was to make it appear that he was addressing them both, but it could be seen where his true priorities lay. Francis had to stifle a grin. 

Roderich’s response was too immediate for one who was  _ accepting _ the invitation, but was trying to convincingly convey that he was  _ not _ pleased with the arrangements, as if it was merely a  _ slightly _ better alternative to walking in the cold and the dark. “I suppose,” were the Austrian’s words. Basch kept his stony poker face free of clues; an almost surefire sign that there were emotions he was consciously not showing. The Swiss man jerked his head in the direction of the passenger seat.  _ Not _ , Francis would point out, the further away  _ backseat _ where one would assume a vaguely unsavory guest would be placed with opportunity to sit next to the  _ other _ vaguely unsavory invite, leaving the  _ front seat _ open for, say, his younger sister. No, Basch directed Roderich to the seat  _ adjacent to himself _ . An…  _ Interesting _ choice, one might say. 

Roderich started in the direction of the passenger seat. Basch pointedly didn’t look at  _ him _ and instead stared questioningly at Francis. Francis answered the unspoken inquiry. “ _ Non _ , my walk is not too far. You two go,” he told the scruffy-haired blond greaser that was now toting a cravat-wearing soc in his front seat, waving them along in a ‘ _ shoo _ ’ gesture and finally letting his suggestive grin seep through to the surface. Basch shrugged, furrowing his eyebrows, not quite catching onto what Francis’ smile was about. 

“Suit yourself,” he said gruffly, shifting gears and hurrying away. 

Francis’ musical friend spoke of Basch Zwingli only occasionally, there being a certain hesitance about bringing him up, and when he did he said nothing much, but Francis could see the contemplation within Roderich at those times. It was the aura of a person who felt they were speaking too much, but knowing that they likely  _ weren’t _ . The two mainly got along due to their renowned penny pinching as well as their high regards for monetary values; a type that could be found in any social class. One would think that the two of them, taking into consideration all of their differences, would be one of the worst possible combinations, but in reality, when put together… that was not the case.

_ Those two _ . They had such chemistry between them already, and they hardly had any idea! Ah,  _ l’amour _ was in the air, but they had yet to open their eyes to the possibility of the feelings of  _ other _ ; too focused on harboring their  _ own _ blossoming, complicated emotions. It was such an endearing sight, the two of them dancing on tiptoe around each other in a slight, hidden, and confused panic. 

Francis wished the best for both of them, individually and together. Perhaps he was just an old, hopeless romantic, but new love just starting to open its eyes and blink around at the world never failed to touch his heart. It was impossible to know how it would turn out, too early to tell the full potential, but it was _ there _ and it was  _ alive _ and it was only a matter of seeing if the spark would  _ ignite _ . 

Francis twirled his keychain around his finger, whistling as he went with his head up in beautiful, fanciful dreams. 

He would be  _ slightly _ late arriving home. The others would be waiting on him; he had promised to prepare dinner for them, after all. Francis found himself smiling again. He would have to propose a toast in honor of his dear band director associate and his Swiss beloved with Arthur that evening. 

The thought alone added an extra skip to his step. Not the wine, but  _ Arthur _ . The vision of the two of them retiring to their shared room, clinking glasses of Francis’ preferred choice of alcohol, and ending the day on a joyously spiteful note against the world that simply  _ couldn’t _ quite take what they had together away from them… Well, it was a vision that Francis liked very much. It was one of the only times that Arthur wouldn’t give even a weak protest for the sake of his ego against the Frenchman curling closer to murmur endless sweet nothings against him, the man even leaning into him. Then, of course, was the falling asleep next to him, feeling the familiar warmth of him and the dip his body caused in the mattress next to Francis. It felt far more natural drifting into his dreams with Arthur Kirkland beside him than on his own. 

Francis was enjoying losing himself in his thoughts, but he was not so lost as to not notice the shift in the shadows. It was likely just the silly paranoia induced by nighttime or perhaps an alley cat, but Francis was suddenly  _ very _ down to Earth. The cold bit sharply at him, though there was no wind to even cause a rustle in the trees or a whistle between buildings. He glanced around, keeping his air of nonchalance in regards to the world around him, but also making a mental list as he went. 

He was alone. The street was completely empty of pedestrians or vehicles. The single person that Francis liked to catch in order to walk within a block of home with was no longer at his side. Most shops had already closed up for the night, not that there were too many around his area anyway. 

Well, Francis joked humorlessly to himself, a possible mugger lurking in the dark was going to be awfully disappointed. He wasn’t carrying any money or, really,  _ anything _ of value besides perhaps his attire. Though, he was  _ rather _ sure that he did not have to worry about some lowlife stripping his designer sweater and scarf off of him. He released a breath, a scoff at anyone who would be so foolish and also to  _ himself _ for letting his mind wander so, watching it puff in a cloud in front of him. 

Nevertheless, he quickened his already brisk pace. Really, he just wanted to get home to the other three that were sure to be impatiently consulting the clock every few minutes wondering why there wasn’t food on the stove already... 

He saw it coming out of the corner of his eye when it  _ did _ happen and by then it was too late to dodge. Any yell of surprise was choked off in Francis’ throat as multiple pairs of hands grabbed him. It was a whirl of disorientation as they roughly yanked him off the sidewalk to an alley where they would be a little more obscured. 

It happened so fast. Francis didn’t have the time to breathe a gasp of the cold night air before they did it. Hands held him back from moving while more shadowed silhouettes hefted a large bucket before him. They dumped it over his head; gallons of a thick, sticky paste-like substance pouring down all over him. 

Francis spluttered against it, accidentally getting a good glob of it in his mouth as he struggled against the bodies immobilizing him with their sheer number surrounding him like a gang in a Hollywood film. 

They were laughing, loud and raucous all around him, shoving him none too gently away from them and against the brick wall. Francis stumbled, barely managing to catch himself, smearing a colored handprint on the masonry. He blinked at it for a second in confusion in the faint illumination offered by the streetlights that didn’t reach  _ quite _ to them. Francis coughed, wiping his hands as best he could before clearing as much of the gunk as he could from his face. Ah! How horrible! It was all matted in his hair! And his  _ sweater _ … He didn’t make his displeasure known to them. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. 

Francis stared at them evenly, taking in the appearances of his rowdy attackers. He didn’t recognize a single face. “Paint?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at them as if he was merely unimpressed with their creativity. Francis examined his hand. “Ah.  _ Glittery _ paint, pardon. What? You pretend to be the goblins of the night and  _ this _ is what you choose to do? Throw paint on me? I thought that only happened to movie stars who chose to clothe themselves in animal fur. As flattered as I am, I do believe you’ve gotten the wrong man,” he smiled, shrugging at them. They had quieted down a little, every mouth twisted down into an ugly scowl. They didn’t seem to have expected him to react as he had. 

“But that’s not all we did!” squeaked an indignant voice coming from a boy who must have been younger than Matthew, appearing to be the youngest in the mob. 

“Oh?” Francis humored. “Is that right?” He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms… And causing a piece of paper to crinkle. The blond reached behind him, pulling the note they had tagged him with off his back. They watched him read it with an expression devoid of emotion. Expletives and slurs and other nastiness. Nothing that hadn’t ever been said to his face. Why were they all always so misguided in their automatic assumptions about Francis’ position in bed? A better question, though, would be why they always seemed to use it in a derogatory fashion? Francis would never understand. He didn’t feel the need to correct them on it, though. Instead he just nodded, folding it up neatly. “Yes. Creative. I’m sure you’re very proud.” He stretched lazily, yawning as if the whole situation had been a bore. “Well, I do appreciate that you chose paint instead of boiling oil,” he said sarcastically. “But if you will excuse me, I’m going to go home, prepare dinner for my family, and make  _ sweet _ love to my partner of more years than you can count,” he flashed a wide smile at them, patting one on the shoulder for good measure, watching him flinch away in disgust. 

Francis pushed through their assemblage as if nothing had occurred, even though he was dripping sparkling paint with every step. They stared, dumbfounded. They  _ were _ just a prattling bundle of children, when it came right down to it. Infested with immaturity and ignorance that one could only hope would be diluted as they gained experience in the world around them. The fact that some were clearly older than Francis didn’t change that in the least.

People were always going to disapprove of his lifestyle, of his sexuality, of the person that was his other half whether society liked it or not, and whatever else he did in the world, really. It happened. Not to say that he would ever be used to it, but it happened, and one learned to deal with such things being insulted. All he could do was continue to hold his head high and know that those things were good, no matter their failure to grasp that. Lashing out would only encourage them.

He  _ did _ wish that they could  _ not _ express their disapproval for him on one of Francis’ favorite outfits, the only thing that actually got to him out of all of that. Francis held back the urge to pick at it in distress, hopelessly wondering if the stains could  _ possibly _ come out… “Whatever,” snorted an unpleasant voice. “At least we’ve done the world a favor by making sure there’s one less ugly sweater in it…” he snickered. 

Francis whipped around, a noise escaping him, his hair managing to splatter bystanders with paint. The offender smirked, pleasantly surprised by his reaction. “Looks better now than it ever will, faggot. I sh--” He didn’t get to finish saying whatever it was he was going to say, because Francis promptly decked him in his moronic nose. The person shrieked in pain, falling back onto his rump and cupping the blood gushing from his nostrils in complete shock. 

“ _ That was  _ designer _ , you pathetic bag of fleas!” _ Francis shouted, slipping into French in his fury at the same time that the other started howling about his nose being broken. 

The Frenchman had been right about one thing, lashing out would encourage them. They surged forward in a wave, remembering that they hated him for everything he stood for. Francis made a move to slip away from them and out into the street, but they grabbed a hold on him, someone taking a fistful of his hair, and yanked him back. 

Someone punched him square in the mouth, busting his lip and sending him staggering back. A strike to his gut doubling him over and knocking the air from his lungs. Then, they were all on him, pain blossoming in every new place their fists collided with. 

Francis honestly didn’t recall how he got on the ground. He just remembered that they seemed to prefer kicking to punching. 

A good clout to the jaw had him curling in on himself in a futile attempt to protect his head and stomach, a vicious kick to the back of the head making his vision go white. Francis jerked back to keep it from happening again, only to get a boot to the cheekbone. He couldn’t see. There were too many of them coming after him at once and he didn’t dare open his eyes. He couldn’t  _ do _ anything but try to defend himself from his state of almost completely silent panic.  _ God, he felt like he was dying.  _ Like they were  _ killing _ him. He could hardly breathe, let alone attempt to get  _ up _ like he knew he needed to. He tasted blood overwhelming the paint, Francis spitting it out, choking on the salty metallic taste. 

He managed to roll to his hands and knees in a desperate flail, thinking he was suffocating. He stared at the asphalt below him, his breathing ragged and wheezing. He knew he was shaking something awful, but he didn’t know that tears mixed with the blood streaming down his face until that point, watching it all fall to the pavement.

Someone stepped down on his hand. Hard. Francis cried out, another kick to the gut quieting him and getting him on his back; one of the worst positions he could be in in that situation. 

It only provoked them more, because they knew they were winning.


	20. Allies

Alfred checked his watch for what had to be the 100th time.  _ Ugh _ , Francis was so late. Probably got caught up in some business thing. Al was  _ starving _ . He’d already snuck some chips to hold himself over. He was kicked back lazily in front of the living room TV, waiting for the Frenchie to get home. They all were, actually. The 3 of them straining their ears for when the front door would open to announce his arrival. Artie was doing whatever in the kitchen, mostly just needlessly busying himself to distract himself from his worrywart tendencies that always popped up when someone didn’t come home at exactly the expected time. Mattie was off in his room, also doing whatever. 

Al sighed to himself, completely uninterested in the television program before him. He considered calling Kiku to talk until dinner, but he wouldn’t be surprised if Matthew was already using the phone…

Then, the front door opened. It was quiet; would’ve gone unnoticed if they weren’t all sitting on the edges of their seats in anticipation for it. Al perked up immediately. Ah,  _ finally _ . He almost wanted to run in there and hug the man, he was so happy to hear his familiar footsteps. Well… It was positively Francis’ footsteps, but a little more shuffling and dragging than usual. Poor guy was probably exhausted from a long day at work. Anyway, Alfred didn’t think any more of it aside from bouncing in his seat because  _ food would be soon _ !

“Oi, frog! You’re late!” Artie called from the kitchen. “Thought you were going to cook us dinner!” 

“My apologies,  _ mon lapin _ . Just give me one moment…” Francis replied. He sounded…  _ different _ than usual… Arthur must have noticed too because he peeked into the living room with eyebrows furrowed. He set his cleaning rag down and went to search his love out. 

“What? Not even a hello--  _ Oh dear God _ .” This was followed by profuse swearing and Francis weakly attempting to calm him down. Alfred was alert, listening to try to figure out what was wrong, frozen to his chair. The next intelligible thing Arthur said was, “ _ Lord _ , Francis! What  _ happened _ ?!  _ God _ , come on. Here, let me…” 

Arthur and Francis shuffled in, Arthur supporting him as he leaned heavily against his side. Alfred swore his blood turned to ice at that moment. 

Francis was a  _ mess _ . His face was bruised and bloody, his blond hair clotted together by his own blood. He was  _ still _ bleeding, the entirety of his face stained with dried and fresh crimson alike. Francis’ mouth  _ had _ to be twice its usual size it was so swollen and his eyes were swelled so shut it was a wonder he could see. “Alfred. Clean, wet washcloth. Now,” Arthur said through gritted teeth. 

It snapped him into action. Alfred sprinted as he obeyed, trembling. He soaked a washcloth, wringing it out some so it wouldn’t drip everywhere. “MATTIE!” Al hollered for his brother, calling him down to help too as he ran back to the older two. 

Arthur had gotten Francis laid back on the couch, an old pillow under his head. “Francis, no, you’re bleeding everywhere. I’m not getting you another pillow,” Arthur was telling him in breathless exasperation, holding his hand out for the washcloth as he heard Al come in. Francis laughed darkly, revealing blood-covered teeth. 

“Only the dead lie flat,  _ mon amor _ .” He was joking, but Arthur really didn’t need to hear that. Especially when Francis had to sit up to have a coughing fit into his hand and it was bloody when he pulled it away. 

“ _ Shit _ , Francis, we have to take you to a hospital,” Arthur said, jerking at the sight of it. Francis shook his head. 

“Arthur, no. I’m fine.”

“ _ You just coughed up blood _ ,  _ damn it _ !”

“ _ Arthur _ , my mouth is bleeding. It’s nothing internal, I swear,” Francis soothed gently. Alfred had seen Arthur in a lot of bad or frightening situations, but Al could say with absolute certainty that he had never seen his big brother as terrified as he was when something had happened to Francis Bonnefoy. As horrified as Arthur was  _ at that moment _ . 

Artie clenched his teeth, forcing himself to nod. He had to take a few long, deep breaths before he nodded again. “Alright…” he said grudgingly, trying to figure out what to do next. “ _ Okay _ … Take off your shirt,” he ordered. Francis grinned up at him, the sight almost demented with how busted up he was. 

“My, my, Arthur. So forward--”

“Stow it, Francis. Take it off.” Francis did as he was told without further jests, Arthur helping him when he winced in pain. 

Matthew got downstairs then, halting in his tracks at the sight of Francis and his torso that was discolored in so many areas his skin could be an abstract painting. “W-What...?” Matthew managed to say, hurrying over to stare. 

“Dinner has been delayed a tad, I am afraid,” Francis said softly, allowing a tiny smile. “Not to worry, Matthew. I’m okay. Really,” he assured as Arthur went about cleaning him up with the washcloth. Mattie took his big brother’s hand, leaning over the back of the couch, watching. 

Francis hissed a little when Arthur worked over a particularly nasty bruise on his cheek where the skin had been broken by the force of the blow that’d caused it, sending the Englishman reeling back, spewing apologies and asking countless times if Francis was alright. The long-haired man ended up having to take one of Arthur’s hands to comfort  _ him _ as well so he could continue what he was doing. “I’m a bloody busboy, not a doctor…” Artie stressfully muttered to himself. 

Alfred was the designated fetcher-of-things, bringing tissues and cleaning out the washcloth when told to. 

“So…” Arthur said in a low voice after a while. “What happened? And why are you covered in… is this glitter and… paint?” he asked. Francis sighed, taking a moment to spit a gob of mouth blood into a tissue.  

“Well… Why do you  _ think _ ?” he replied with a shrug. “The world knows that I am in a homosexual relationship, Arthur, my love… That  _ we _ are, I should say… And…” he sighed again. “When I was walking alone, a group of mindless young men decided it appropriate to express their disapproval by pulling me into an alley and coating me in paint,” Francis informed them all. Arthur stared expectantly, waiting for more. 

“... And?” he prompted. 

“Oh! And they also taped a  _ lovely _ note on my back to make certain they got their point across.”

“...  _ And _ ?”

“ _ And _ , I walked away. They let me; they were so surprised by my attitude… Then, one of them insulted my sweater, said it looked better with the paint. I punched him in the nose… It instigated a bit of a brawl,” Francis admitted. Arthur stared at him for a second or two before running a hand down his face. 

“ _ Francis _ , I swear to God…”

“It was designer!” he cried defensively. Arthur was laughing now.

“Alright, alright,” he placated. “Did you hit him hard?”

“It is safe to say I broke ‘is nose for it,” Francis grinned again. 

“Good…” Arthur said in an almost scarily firm, calm voice. “I still can’t believe someone would do this to you…” he shook his head, going back to dabbing with the washcloth. “Do you think we can file a lawsuit for this?” Arthur asked. Francis gave his hand a light squeeze. 

“My darling, we are in America. We can  _ try _ to sue anything… But no. I don’t think we could. I didn’t know any of them. I don’t think I got a good enough look at any of their faces to be able to pick them out of a crowd,” Francis said. Arthur shook his head again, more agitated this time, his face even but his eyes burning. 

“Something has to be done. This is  _ not _ okay. I… I won’t allow these kinds of things to just  _ happen _ ! And I’ll be  _ damned _ if I’m going to  _ not _ do anything after it’s happened to  _ you _ ,” Arthur growled dangerously serious. Francis blew a strand of sticky hair out of his face. 

“Arthur, if you truly  _ must _ , we can run it by the police station tomorrow. Right now? I’m going to go take a bath and get this out of my hair. I wouldn’t be  _ opposed _ if you would join me. To make sure I do not go unconscious in the water, of course. Reasonable precaution,” Francis purred, pulling Arthur slowly closer to him as he spoke. 

“Well you most certainly  _ do _ need a bath,” Arthur told him. “But action also  _ does _ need to be taken  _ tonight _ . I intend to do that.” Francis pouted. Arthur smiled a little down at him, leaning to press a kiss to his forehead. “Besides,” he added. “It looks like we’re going to need some pain medication for you. I’ll have to stop by the drug store.” Francis laid back, looking up at him calculatingly. 

“ _ Please _ don’t do anything stupid,” was all he could think to say. 

“Me? Never,” Arthur retorted sarcastically. 

“Smoking counts as stupid.”

“Wha’?!” 

“ _ I am _ the one that has to kiss you, Arthur Kirkland,” Francis reminded him, smiling. He pondered for a moment. “Perhaps  _ that _ is why I am so addicted to you; the amounts of nicotine in your mouth.” As if to prove a point, the Frenchman tugged Artie in for an intimate kiss, careful about his beaten lips. 

Alfred was kind of wondering at this point if the two of them had forgotten they weren’t the only ones in the room. 

“It is still a bad habit, though,” Francis added, pulling away with a wet noise. Arthur made a face. 

“Well, I’m not the  _ only _ one that needs to brush his teeth at the moment.”

 

Arthur made sure that Francis was settled in the bath before jogging back downstairs, grabbing his leather jacket and picking up the phone. “Are you coming?” he asked Alfred, slowly dialing a number as he waited for an answer from him. 

Alfred was confused. “To… The drug store...?” he said questioningly. Arthur rolled his eyes at him. 

“No, you clod. We’re going to do something about this,” Arthur told him, looking him straight in the eyes. Alfred had a feeling that he didn’t mean the police department. 

“But Artie, you don’t  _ know _ any of the people that hurt him… What are you going to do?” Alfred said slowly. Artie’s eye contact never wavered.

“I’m going to teach the people that caused this whole mess a lesson. Their little ‘rumor’? It’s gone too far. Are you in or out?” Al froze like a deer caught in headlights.

“Uh, yeah… Coming… Just gimme one second…” Alfred said, hopping up to nervously make a run for the stairs. Arthur narrowed his eyes at him. 

“Where are you going?” he questioned. 

_ To call my boyfriend. _

“I’m gonna go get Mattie; see if he wants to come along,” he lied. It was the first thing that came to mind. Now, he  _ could _ have just said he needed to go to the bathroom, but  _ no _ . Arthur shook his head.

“No. I won’t have anything happen to him. You? You’re  _ my _ little brother. Matthew is Francis’.”

“ _ Dude _ , that’s  _ why _ he should come. Francis is  _ his _ big brother.”

“Guys? Um, I’m right here…” Matthew said, poking his head into the room. Arthur ran a hand down his face. 

“Hello, Matthew… Watch after your brother for me, would you? We won’t be too long,” Artie smiled at him. Matthew looked conflicted, as if he wanted to say something. Oh, and Alfred was silently begging him to say  _ anything _ to stop him, but he stayed quiet, nodding obediently and disappearing back into the other room. 

Arthur finished dialing the number, holding the phone to his face as he waited. “Ah, good evening, Yao. Say, we have a…  _ situation _ of sorts…”

 

Alfred stood by Arthur, shivering in his own leather jacket as they waited for Ivan and Yao to arrive. They were going to be hitching a ride with them. 

Al fidgeted anxiously, though he could pretend it was just the cold. He hadn’t gotten opportunity to call Kiku. He had no idea if Matthew would do anything. And now his brother was hellbent on exacting revenge on a trio that Alfred’s significant other was part of… And  _ not going _ would just make everything  _ worse _ … He didn't know what to do. “Ya know…” Al spoke up as a last ditch effort. “Francis  _ did _ specifically tell you  _ not _ to do something stupid…” Arthur looked over at him, his eyes colder than the night around them. 

“It’s not stupidity. It’s justice, pure and simple. Aren’t you all about that?”

“Artie, there’s a difference between justice and revenge…”

“You will come to find that the lines separating them often overlap,” Arthur told him with a sniff. Alfred was going to attempt to bullshit something wise-sounding too, but then they were washed in the glow of headlights. “Ah, our ride has arrived,” Arthur announced. 

Yao waved them along impatiently from the driver’s seat of his and Ivan’s van. Ivan smiled at them from the passenger’s seat.

Al and Artie climbed into the backseats, Alfred choosing to sit in the row behind Arthur instead of with him. Yao hardly glanced at the two of them. “ _ Okay _ , now that you have us here… Where we going?”

“The Beilschmidt household,” Arthur answered coolly. “Do you know how to…?” Alfred saw Yao roll his eyes in the rearview mirror. 

“Yes, I know where I’m going,” Yao grumbled as he shifted gears, reaching out to take a swig of coffee from a cutesy panda bear thermos, gently replacing both hands on the wheel, and then gassing the large vehicle with a screech of tires. 

Alfred was thrown back against the seat, his hands scrambling for the seat belt. Yao was one of those drivers that was more concerned with the efficiency of getting from one place to another rather than the safety of the endeavor, bending the rules of the road to suit him but never  _ quite  _ breaking them and Alfred was rather certain in that moment that he was going to die. 

Arthur seemed to be in a similar mind, grabbing onto whatever handholds he could find with a white-knuckled grip. Ivan, meanwhile, seemed to be completely at ease, taking a spare screw out of… was that a faucet? What were they planning on  _ doing _ ? 

Yao spun the wheel, sending them careening around a corner instead of having to slow down for the other traffic that was out on the main road. “Dearest, if you do not slow down, we will end up in jail. Me for the second time,” Ivan noted without even looking up. Alfred coughed.  _ Oh, I  _ knew _ it! _

“S-Second time, you say?” Al said, hoping it sounded like he was making conversation. Ivan hummed.

“Yes, that is correct.” Al laughed nervously.

“Uh, what were you in for, big guy?”

“Oh, there were some children. They were bigger than me, always found it funny how I speak. They made it game to see if they could get me to stop it with the smiling… They didn’t seem to find it funny when I taught them lesson,” Ivan was still smiling. “They told the authorities that I was a Russian child spy. They believed them over me.” Oh… That wasn’t what Alfred was expecting to hear…

“... How old were you?” he found himself asking. 

“Eleven,” was the answer he received. “My big sister, Yekaterina, had to come get me.” Alfred felt pretty bad. ‘Cause  _ look _ at this big guy who always smiles and lives with his boyfriend on the wrong side of the tracks and may not have many friends… Although there  _ was _ a part of Al that couldn’t help but notice that Ivan hadn’t ever said he  _ wasn’t _ a Soviet spy...  

Yao, meanwhile, was not amused with the other people on the road. His fellow drivers seemed to be able to sense that they were in a hurry and did their very best to be as idiotic as possible just to sour his mood even more. Because apparently accelerating to the posted speed limit was something that they didn’t deem necessary.

And passing around them wasn’t an option either because of  _ more _ traffic. Wow, the entirety of the teenage driving population seemed to be out cruising around. 

Yao was not one to internalize his displeasure for the other cars’ existence for long, though he gave it an effort. The long-haired old coot silently stewed against the steering wheel for a time, glaring holes into the back of the heads of those in his way as they were forced to stop at a red light on top of everything. “Not to worry, sunflower. We will be off the main streets soon,” Ivan soothed. Yao grumbled in response. 

And once again, the van of allies was stuck behind the same ‘hooligans’. Alfred could see Yao’s eye twitch in the mirror. Let’s see, that made one vengeful Englishman, one large Russian, one almost-road-raging Chinese guy, and one anxious American almost sick to his stomach because he didn’t know what was going to happen. It was quite the combination. And they were all united with one purpose: to assist Arthur Kirkland in getting his revenge. Alfred was supposed to want to help. Little did they know that Honda Kiku, one of the 3 people that Arthur loathed more than ever, was Al’s boyfriend. 

What could he even say to bring that up after all that had happened?

Yao’s vindictive cheer as he was finally able to take an opening to get around the couple cars in front of them snapped Alfred out of it. “HA!  _ SUCK AAAASSSS _ !” he yelled into the air, hitting the accelerator. Yao’s hurry to pass them earned a cacophony of horns blared in his direction. He made a highly frowned-upon gesture at them with one hand in reply while he took a sip of coffee from his panda thermos to half-hide a grin.    

“Yao, that’s rude,” Ivan sighed at him scoldingly. 

“Yes, I know. That’s why I did it, actually,” Yao said matter-of-factly. Ivan huffed, saying something in Russian and crossing his arms. Yao raised an eyebrow over at him, responding with something in Cantonese and a smirk. Ivan smiled, a more genuine one than what Alfred always saw on him, giggling a little and saying something  _ else _ in Russian, seemingly scolding him again. And they went back and forth like that, playfully bickering at each other in different languages, no one knowing what the heck they were saying but them. 

Alfred and Arthur looked at each other in their confusion, just sort of checking to make sure that, yes, neither of the English-speakers knew what was going on.

Al guessed it was a pretty nifty system they had going there. Odds were, people didn’t know either Cantonese  _ or _ Russian. The chances of them knowing  _ both _ ? Well. 

Whatever it was, it ended with Yao scoffing over at Ivan and slugging him on the shoulder while Ivan giggled like crazy, Yao putting his attention back on the road with a sigh and a half-smile, and allowing for Ivan to take his hand on the console between them. 

There was some relative peace for a bit. However, surprise, surprise, it didn’t last. And,  _ surprise _ ,  _ surprise _ , it was another car that disturbed it. However, this one was going much too fast instead of too slow. Yao himself was going super quick, but this car was gaining on them by the second. Alfred hadn’t taken any notice of it really… until it followed them around more than two turns.  _ Then _ , he was definitely keeping an eye on the pair of headlights that seemed particularly determined to be close to them. 

Nobody else had seemed to take any interest in it, so he didn’t mention it. He was sure that Yao was perfectly aware that there was a funny-acting car behind them anyway…

That was, until it burned rubber pulling ahead of them… and then drastically slowed down, causing Yao to have to slam on the brakes so they wouldn’t rear end it. Yao rammed his hand on the horn furiously. The car pulled over to the side of the road ahead of them. 

Alfred didn’t notice something very vital about that car until Arthur cursed. Oh.  _ Oh _ . He recognized that car. 

Yao was going to pass it by, deciding that yelling at the driver for their incompetence wasn’t worth it, but then the driver got out of the car… and stomped out into the road in front of the van. Then, it was Yao’s turn for expletives. Arthur didn’t miss out on it either. With a horrific screech of brakes, they came to a jarring stop before a  _ very _ unhappy Francis Bonnefoy, his hair still wet from his bath. 

Francis had his arms firmly crossed and his jaw set like an angry wife. Alfred was half-expecting him to jut out a hip and tap his foot. Arthur flew out of the van to face him. “WHAT THE BLOODY HELL D'YOU THINK YOU’RE  _ DOING _ ?!” the Brit gasped, still clutching his chest from his near heart attack. “You should be  _ resting _ !  _ Recuperating _ ! And  _ why _ would you do  _ that _ ?! You could have been killed if he hadn’t braked quick enough!” Arthur yelled, gesturing wildly. Francis held his bruised head high. 

“And I should ask you the same thing. What do you think  _ you’re _ doing, Arthur Kirkland?” Artie’s face slackened momentarily, but then he bared his teeth in fury. 

“ _ I _ am getting the justice that you deserve,” Arthur growled. Francis rolled his eyes. 

“‘Justice’?  _ Justice _ ? Is that what you’re calling it? Arthur, I  _ specifically _ told you  _ not _ to do this! And what did you do? You even dragged Alfred into it.”

“He came willingly! Don’t act like I’m forcing him to do this. You’re as much like a father to him as I am. We’re doing this because it needs to be done!”

“Is that so?  _ Look that boy in the eyes and tell me he ‘wants’ to do this _ ! Look  _ me _ in the eyes and tell me he hasn’t protested against this! Matthew came to me the moment you left, Arthur. Believe me. I know.” As if on cue, Mattie climbed out of the passenger seat of Francis’ car looking worried. Yao and Ivan were also watching from near the van. 

Everyone was completely silent except for Arthur and Francis. 

Arthur shook his head almost desperately. “You don’t understand,” he said in a low voice, dangerously collected. Francis threw his arms into the air. 

“Really? What has gone over my head here? I got hurt, which, let me be completely honest with you, we were all almost expecting something like this to happen eventually. Don’t even lie to me there. And then what? I got hurt, you blew up, and I understand that. That’s okay.  _ Mon cher _ , it is perfectly fine for you to be upset about this, what makes it  _ not _ okay is you going out of your mind seeking revenge. Arthur, you  _ will _ regret any decisions you make against someone when you are in this state of anger. I tried to tell you this. I told you not to do anything. Not yet. Your head is not clear and I can  _ tell this _ because you have not once stopped to think about the consequences of any actions you might do.  _ Therefore _ , I told you not to do anything stupid… and yet here you are. With Alfred. And Ivan. And Yao. Tell me, just what are you planning on  _ doing _ ?” 

“Whatever it takes,” Arthur stated, squaring his shoulders. 

“Do you not realize what a  _ child _ you sound like? Arthur. Stop.” Arthur shook his head. 

“No. If I don’t do something, then  _ nobody will _ ! Do you not get that?! People won’t stop to help us if we tell them what happened! They don’t want anything to do with you or me.”

“ _ Arthur _ , I know.  _ Mon cher _ , I _ know _ . But listen to me, I  _ don’t _ know what the solution is, but I  _ do _ know that it is most certainly not this,” Francis told him. Arthur wasn’t meeting his eyes. 

“I’m sorry, but--” Francis cut him off right there. 

“You’re sorry? You’re  _ sorry _ ?  _ Mon Dieu _ , for what?! Just  _ stop _ ! Come home, I’ll make dinner, I--”

“Francis, I’m sorry,” Arthur said more forcefully. “I’m sorry that this happened to you. I’m sorry about…  _ this _ . I’m sorry that I don’t listen to a word that’ll do me good. I’m sorry that I’m stubborn about everything under the Sun. I’m sorry that I am a completely insufferable prat at times. I’m sorry that I am not a person that makes it easy for someone to like me. I’m sorry for all the hurt and the utter shit that I’ve caused you in all this time that you’ve put up with me,” he spoke slowly, sincerely, carefully articulating each word through a throat that sounded like it wanted to choke him off. “But you know what?” he continued, raising his voice slightly. “I am  _ not _ sorry for our relationship. I am not sorry for everything that we  _ have _ managed to build together. I am not sorry that our little brothers consider us four to be a family. I am not sorry that I love all that we have together… And, Francis, I am  _ not _ sorry that I love  _ you _ … So pardon me, but I cannot sit idly by and watch someone  _ step _ all over that, thinking they can get away with it,” he said, looking Francis Bonnefoy straight in the face. 

Francis had stopped, frozen. It was quiet as they looked at each other. Finally, Francis opened his mouth, releasing a shuddering breath. “You… You’ve never said that to me before…” the Frenchman said, his voice raspy. Arthur knew exactly what Francis was talking about. He looked at the ground, swallowing hard. 

“Did you really think that it wasn’t true?” Arthur managed. Francis shook his head quickly. 

“No, no, it’s not that. I just… You’ve… You’ve never  _ said _ it… And…” he had to stop to laugh a little, viciously swiping at tears in his eyes. Arthur smiled at him, still having trouble keeping eye contact as he stepped forward and pulled his lover in for a hug, handling him gently because of the bruises. 

“Aw, now. Don’t go crying on me,” he said, stroking Francis’ long hair. “It’s bad for image,” he joked. Francis laughed a tearful laugh at him, pulling back and taking his face in one hand while the other stayed firmly wrapped around Arthur. He took a deep breath, calming himself as he searched Artie’s green eyes. 

“ _ Je t'aime _ ,” Francis whispered, their lips centimeters apart. 

“Try that again in English, snail-eater,” Arthur grinned, covering Francis’ hand with his own. Francis rolled his eyes. 

“You got ‘insufferable prat’ about right,” Francis scoffed lightly, grinning right back. “ _ I love you _ , Arthur Kirkland.” It wasn’t quite clear who kissed who at that point, but then Arthur’s arms were looped around Francis’ neck and Francis held him close by the waist. They didn’t pull away for at least a minute, locked in their own world and silent promises to each other. “Of course I do,” Francis breathed, kissing him once more before going on. “Why else would I be here? I only came here to the States to look into a bottling company for our wine. Why would I choose to  _ stay _ here in this nondescript location in the Midwest? I own an estate in  _ France _ .” Arthur looked at him, confused, absently tracing Francis’ busted bottom lip with a finger. 

“But it was Matthe--” he started to say. The Frenchman shook his head. 

“ _ Non _ . Well, I enrolled Matthew in school because I knew the arrangements would take a while. Oh, I always spout off something about him being so well-adjusted as my reasoning for sticking around, but it was always supposed to be just a temporary thing... Then, somewhere along the way, I met a certain British greaser dressed in the most ridiculous malt shop uniform I had ever seen,” Francis mused, smiling at the memories. Arthur chuckled. 

“We drove each other up a wall,” the Brit reminded him. Francis hummed in agreement. 

“But we were always inexplicably drawn back, now weren’t we? And, Matthew  _ was _ well-adjusted. Our little brothers loved playing together… And then there was  _ you _ . And who was I kidding? It was  _ all _ you. Oh, I tried lying to _ myself _ , even, at times, that it was most definitely  _ not _ , but it was. You and your absurdly large eyebrows,” they both laughed at that, Francis pressing a sweet kiss to Arthur’s forehead. “So, I thought, why  _ not _ make more permanent arrangements here?”

“Why would you do that for somebody? Not that I’m complaining, but that’s downright foolishness,” Arthur scolded, shaking his head in wonder. Francis shrugged. 

“I knew that. I very well knew that. Hence, the trying to convince myself that I had other reasons behind my decisions… but I suppose… it worked out surprisingly well, didn’t it?” Arthur kissed him deeply. 

“It did,” he agreed strongly. “I love you.” Francis smiled, his eyes closed and their noses brushing with every breath they took. 

“Mm…” he hummed happily. “Say it again.”

“I love you,” Arthur told him. “Frog,” he added for good measure. Francis leaned their foreheads together, both of them smiling in that stupid way lovestruck people do.

“I could get used to the sound of that,” he purred. “I love you too,  _ mon coeur _ .” He buried his face in the crook of Arthur’s neck, enjoying a moment of silence to breathe him in… 

Until Alfred broke into loud, sarcastic applause just to be an annoyance and remind them that there were others around. Ivan joined him with his own excited little claps, meant more to congratulate the two. Artie shot Al a look, but nevertheless took a step back, sighing. He took one of Francis’ hands, examining it thoughtfully for a moment. “You’re so beautiful,” Arthur decided, but then looked up, shrugging. “ _ Well _ , you look like shit right now, but you’re still beautiful... to me.” Francis gave an exaggerated roll of his eyes. 

“Well,  _ thank you _ ,” he said, mostly sarcastic. He took a deep breath, giving Arthur’s hand a squeeze as he looked into his eyes. “Will you come home?” Francis asked him. Al could see Artie hesitate. So could France-y Pants because he went on. “ _ Mon cher _ , I think there are some things that we should discuss,” he said in a low voice. 

“... Yeah. I’m coming…” Arthur, finally, agreed. Francis nodded, relieved. The long-haired man tore his gaze away from the person he loved to seek out the other adults that were hanging around. Yao inclined his head as if to say ‘ _ yes, what is it? _ ’. Francis walked over to him and Ivan, a charming, apologetic smile on his messed up face that automatically had Yao on guard. 

“Ah, good evening, my friends,” he greeted in his silky business voice. “May I ask a favor of you?” 


	21. Storm

Alfred was happy for Artie and Francis getting to profess their love for each other and all, but that didn’t stop him from loathing everything at that point in time. You see, Francis went up to Yao and Ivan and asked if they could watch/house/ _ babysit _ him and Matthew for the night. Something about him having something that he wanted to talk with Arthur about  _ privately _ (as in, without either of their little brothers possibly interrupting). Then, Francis lowered his voice as to not be overheard by his significant other, but Al heard him. There was something that he had wanted to talk to Arthur about for a while now and after tonight, was finally going to sit him down and discuss it. 

So, yeah. Talking. 

Amongst other things, probably. 

Either way, they still needed their privacy for the night. 

AND SO, that was how Alfred found himself next to Mattie in the backseat of Ivan Braginsky and Wang Yao’s van on the way back to their house for a proper slumber party while Arthur drove home with Francis. 

Al twiddled his thumbs in his lap the whole way, Ivan and Yao mostly quiet except for Yao to laugh to himself that he, “... thought he was done with mothering minors.”

Anyway, they got back to their place, awfully familiar to Alfred considering he had coated it in toilet paper once. As far as he knew, Ivan and Yao still didn’t know that he and Kiku were the ones who’d done that, so he was probably good there… They all piled out of the car, Mattie politely thanking them for the ride and letting them stay over while their brothers got some things sorted out. Yao modestly waved him off, telling him there was no need to thank him. Then, he proceeded to point at Matthew and tell Alfred to take example from his manners. 

Al hadn’t been in the two’s house much. Mattie  _ never _ having set foot in the place. Yao made them all take off their shoes before entering, the basically-brothers huddling together awkwardly. Yao clapped his hands together. “ _ So _ ! No mischief! I will not hesitate to smack you upside the head,” he announced, looking directly at Alfred. “No shoes in the house. No midnight snacking,” another pointed glare at Alfred. “No sneaking out of the house. No touching my panda cup. No touching the Chinese vases. No stealing drinks of Ivan’s vodka; he will know. Just use common sense and help the other recognize what common sense is, should he forget,” a sincere look to Mattie. He went on, “There is leftover pirozhki in the kitchen. Ivan always makes too much of it,” Yao grinned, reaching up to fondly pinch his partner’s cheek. Ivan, his hands folded innocently behind his back, shrugged. 

“It is my favorite. What can I say?” he smiled from his position looming over them. 

“So you may help yourselves to that,” Yao continued. “You may take a shower if you must. There is only one spare bedroom, so share or cast lots for who gets the sofa,” he told them. Alfred clapped Matthew on the shoulder.

“You can have the bed, Mattie. I’ll take the couch,” he offered. The quiet kid smiled his thanks over at him. 

 

Ivan’s pirozhki things were actually super tasty. That was about as good as it got. After food, none of them were quite ready to retire to bed, so they just kind of hung out in the living room…

On one hand, Matthew actually had the guts to make conversation with Ivan and they were having a friendly debate on what the strongest bear was. Matthew was rooting for the polar bear, Ivan for the brown bear. Ivan seemed really cheerful about the conversation, recognizing Matthew’s good points, but still retaliating smoothly with some of his own. Alfred still didn’t trust him much, though. 

_ On the other hand _ , that left Alfred and Yao to sit quietly. Yao took the chance to glare at him from his seat across the room. Now, Al didn’t know what he was displeased about, which, considering it was  _ Al _ , could be any number of things. And honestly, all Alfred could think was ‘ _ I am dating this guy’s brother _ ’... He was also starting to become mildly worried that Yao somehow  _ knew _ that Alfred had once given his little brother a hickey while he was on the phone with Yao… 

He ended up excusing himself for a shower just to get out of the room. 

But it was just a cover-up because, you see, he had a phone call to make. He found a telephone with little difficulty, dialed the number that he had committed to memory, and relaxed when Kiku picked up. “Heya, Kiks,” Alfred sighed into the phone quietly. 

“Hello, Alfred,” his boyfriend replied. “How are you?”

“Umm… Fine? Ish? Tonight has been  _ really _ eventful and I think I’ll just tell you about it later because there are more pressing matters at hand. So, I’m at Yao’s place with Mattie. We’re staying the night ‘cause Francis and Artie--  _ heh _ , ‘Fartie’ if you mashed up the names-- they needed alone time or something,  _ but anyway _ , I’m getting, like, a  _ ton _ of dirty looks from your brother here--”

“Yes, he doesn’t like you much,” Kiku added in helpfully. 

“Yeah, I know, but he likes Mattie which is totally unfair, but whatever. But yeah. You’ve lived with him. How do I get by without him tearing my head off? Any tips?” Alfred asked hopefully. Kiku was silent for a bit. Then, he started chuckling. 

“I’m afraid I do not, actually. He is my brother; I  _ know _ . I can only wish you much luck. If you do survive, please, don’t hesitate to come see me tomorrow.”

 

And thus, Alfred got through an hour or so more of being glared at until Ivan finally wrapped up his and Matthew’s sporting debate with a chuckle and “I think that the both of us raise good arguments over the strongest bear, however… I believe we  _ can _ agree on one point: the panda bear is most certainly the weakest.” At which point, Yao whipped around to put in his loud, not-so-sporting protests to that comment. 

_ Then _ , he got to go to sleep… Which mostly consisted of hugging the blanket he’d been given up under his chin paranoid that A. Ivan and/or Yao would do something to get payback for one of the instances of crap Alfred had caused them. B. Ivan  _ was _ a communist agent and Alfred, a brave, capitalistic American, could witness him in the act of some Soviet malarkey and be kidnapped away to some underground torture gulag. OR option C. Ivan and Yao would start up some unspeakable act in the next room together and Alfred would have to hear that. 

None of those options seemed preferable. 

So Alfred stared at the ceiling with his stupid blanket on the stupid couch for a good portion of the night until he was able to drift into more pleasant thoughts and then asleep with seeing Kiku on his mind…

 

Mattie woke him up as he was ready to leave in the morning (well… right before noon), always the early riser. But that was okay, because Alfred got to go see Kiku today. He’d been invited, even! Loved when that happened. 

So he was  _ really _ ,  _ really  _ pumped about it. He had his heart set on getting him flowers and surprising him with food (a Filet O Fish from McDonalds with a little extra salt, Kiku’s favorite item on the entire menu) and he was going to kiss the breath out of him because he missed him and it was just going to be a  _ fantastic _ day. 

Alfred walked, practically skipping from his mental plans for the day, to get all of the necessary things to have this brilliant day playing out as he imagined. 

It was about 12:45 when Alfred turned up at Kiku’s door, cheeks bitten from the cold, but grinning nevertheless. It was awful cloudy outside, but that didn’t dull his mood for even a second. He also had his heart set on surprising his boyfriend good and proper, so he let himself in with the key. He  _ also _ dearly hoped that it would go well and he wouldn’t give the boy a heart attack or get himself stabbed with a katana by not loudly announcing his presence. 

Al could hear movement in the kitchen. “Kikuuuu!” Alfred said as he ran towards the sound. 

He halted in his tracks at the sight that greeted him. 

Some kid. Small. Preteen. Asian. Removing fresh hard boiled eggs from a pot alone in Kiku’s kitchen. Alfred hid the flowers and McDonald’s sandwich behind his back quickly behind his back, but the kid didn’t seem interested in his reasoning for it. His eyes widened in shock at there suddenly being a stranger standing there, wielding the plastic spoon he was using to fish the eggs from the hot water at him. Alfred was expecting him to threaten him or tell him to ‘leave or he’d call the cops’. But instead, he just shouted, “STEP AWAY FROM THE EGGS!” took his carton-full of hard boiled eggs, and ran out the back door. 

Alrighty then. Moving on. 

Pretending as if that hadn’t just happened, Alfred strained his ears to try to figure out where the heck Kiku was. Then, he heard it, splashing water sounds like someone was washing their face or something. 

In Alfred’s defense, he was so excited that he wasn’t really, ya know,  _ utilizing _ the tissue between his ears. So, he just kinda barged into Kiku’s bathroom bearing his gifts (knocking  _ as _ he pushed inside), for some reason assuming that he was merely splashing water on his face in the sink. 

That was not, in fact, the case. 

Honda Kiku  _ was _ , in all actuality, in the process of taking a bath with a small dog.

Alfred did not realize this until it was too late to turn back. 

“Hey, Kiks, it’s me. Did you know that a kid-- OH SORRY!” Al whipped around once he realized the situation, with intentions to run out… only to smack into the doorframe face-first....  _ Then _ , he exited the bathroom. 

Alfred took a deep breath to steady himself. He’d really only gotten a blur of Japanese boy skin in his haste and he was trying  _ very _ hard not to think about even that little smidge of mental data… Al leaned against the now-reclosed door, not entirely sure what to do in his discombobulated state. Then,  _ light bulb _ .

 

“I’M NOT LOOKING, I SWEAR!” Alfred announced, stumbling back in blindly with his eyes squeezed closed behind arms covering them for good measure. Kiku chuckled at him, sounding still a little startled from the sudden intrusion, but still amused. Al stood there unsurely in the dark, not even sure if he was turned in the right direction. It was uncomfortably quiet considering the scenario. “So… When didja get a dog?” he decided to ask. Kiku cleared his throat. 

“Oh… I got him from my second cousin, twice removed, Niko. You might have just met him, actually…” he answered. 

“Aaah,” Alfred nodded awkwardly with his arms on his head. “Was wondering why there was some kid boiling eggs in your place.”

“He… Stole my eggs  _ AGAIN _ ?! That  _ little SHIT _ !” Kiku huffed in frustration. He sighed forlornly and Al could almost picture him staring into the distance. “He likes eggs… We don’t really understand him…” Alfred chuckled apologetically. 

“So ‘twice removed’? How does that make him related to you?” Al asked, having never quite gotten that down. 

“He is my cousin. He’s literally been removed from the family twice now. Age 12. It’s a difficult year.” 

“... Okay.” Again,  _ moving along _ . “So. Dog.”

“Ah, yes,” Kiku brightened considerably. “I have decided to call him Pochi… He-He doesn’t seem to like the water much, so I… climbed in too to help calm him down…” he explained embarrassedly.

“AWWWW, YOU BIG SAP! You’re too cute, ya know that?” Alfred chimed in. Kiku laughed lightly.

“You really do have the most awful timing, we were just about to get out… Um, could you… could you hand me my towel? And robe…” Kiku asked. Alfred could practically  _ hear _ the blush. The American, keeping one arm firmly to his eyes, swung around unseeingly with the other, trying to grab onto  _ some _ kind of fabric material. And… Lo and behold, he found it. 

Now to get it to the boyfriend. 

It was all going swell shuffling carefully across the bathroom floor… Until he slipped on a puddle of soapy water undoubtedly caused by the rambunctious little dog…

His eyes opened instinctively so he could catch himself from cracking his head on the bathtub. 

Kiku was awkwardly covering his crotch in one corner of the tub. Pochi was startled by the sudden movement and leapt out of the water, the drenched ball of fur escaping into the house.  

 The black-haired boy sighed through his utter mortification at the thought of having to clean up the wetness sure to be trailed everywhere by the dog. Alfred put his head in his hands, also embarrassed, holding out Kiku’s robe and towel to him. 

 

Al waited outside until Kiku was dried off and wrapped in his silky gray robe, the soaked mass of fluff licking him like crazy and causing a pool of wetness to form on his shirt from where he held it still against him. The blond perked up, but also held back sheepishly when Kiku opened the door, towel drying his hair a bit before using the cloth to accept Pochi from Alfred, scratching the wiggling creature behind the ear. Then, he turned to the American who was on the verge of spewing out a thousand apologies and things that could have gone differently.

Kiku went up on tiptoes, pulling Alfred down gently by the shoulder to kiss him on the mouth. “You know, that’s about the most skin anyone has ever seen of mine,” he commented when he pulled back. 

“I’m so sorry, Kiks, I--”

“Hey, it’s alright,” he laughed a little, kissing him again. It was a bit of a lie and they both knew it. “Consider yourself privileged, I suppose, hmm?” Al laughed too, pressing their foreheads together. 

“So anyway…” Alfred continued on, clearing his throat. They were both still red as firetrucks. “I-I brought… stuff.”  _ Smoothe _ .

“Stuff, you say?” Kiku humored. Al nodded his head enthusiastically, darting to grab his gifts. Kiku smiled sweetly at the flowers, accepting them graciously. And then he saw the sandwich. He raised a confused eyebrow, looking to see what it was, and then tipped his head back as he laughed. He had to cover his cackling mouth when the extra salt packet that Alfred had neatly tucked into the wrapper fell out.

“What?” Alfred was concerned. Maybe he’d slightly traumatized the poor boy by walking in on him in the bath. Kiku shook his head, mystified. 

“You remembered my order?”

“Yeah…?” Al was confused. Shouldn’t you always remember someone’s regular order if they were important to you? Kiku pulled him down to kiss him once more, the puppy squirming uncomfortably between them. They pulled away, turning their focuses to the cute little animal thing. “Aww, who’s a cute wittle puppy dog?” Alfred cooed in a baby voice, petting it. Kiku smiled slightly.

“I need to go pick up some things for him… Would you care to join me?” he asked, still finding it a tad difficult to look him in the eyes. 

“Of course!” Alfred exclaimed excitably, smiling bashfully. “I’m still really sorry, Kiku…” he blurted despite himself. 

“O-Oh…” Kiku was taken rather by surprise by the last bit. He fidgeted a little, blushing a deep red once again. “It’s fine. Really,” Kiku tried to assure him. Al still felt like he’d crossed a line and also felt he would like to wedge himself in a dark corner and stay there blushing and beating himself up about it… But Kiku was good at distracting him. “How about we take this to go?” he suggested, gesturing with his sandwich. 

 

Al, Kiku, and Pochi trotted down the street, as carefree as could be under the grumpy-looking sky. Two leather-clad greasers walking down the street with their jeans rolled up to better display their sweet kicks walking a small, fluffy dog. 

Alfred and Kiku talked yesterday’s events while Kiku chowed down on his sandwich with one hand, Pochi’s leash in the other. The black-haired boy did his best to remember his manners when it came to eating and keeping up with the conversation, but Al could tell that his own habits were maybe starting to grow on the Jap. 

Kiku was not at all pleased with the recounts of what happened to Francis. And he went very quiet when it came to Artie’s reaction to it. And then Al got into the better, happier bits and Kiku, the cutie, was smiling to himself at Alfred’s narration. The American wrapped up his tale after he had gotten to the part where he left Ivan and Yao’s. Kiku was silent, crumpling up his now-empty McDonald’s wrapper. Finally, he shook his head. “I… I don’t know what to say to that,” Kiku admitted softly. “I’m so sorry that happened to Mr. Bonnefoy…” he decided to say. “But I am also glad that he and your brother were able to admit these things to each other in the face of such circumstances...” he added thoughtfully. 

“Yeah… Same. Wish they hadn’t dumped me at Ivan and Yao’s afterwards, though,” Alfred felt the need to say. Kiku chuckled, shrugging. 

“Seems they had some business to take care of.” Al made a face. He wasn’t too sure that it was all ‘business’ over there. 

But anyway, they were just about to the pet store. “So, what do you need for the rascal?” Alfred asked, looking down at the puppy that was sniffing everything happily. 

“Ah… Well, food, first and foremost. Two bowls for the food and water… Niko gave me his leash and collar, so I don’t need that… A dog bed, perhaps? Or will he be okay without one…? Chew toys, definitely. I don’t want him taking an interest in the furniture because he has nothing to gnaw on… What else do dogs need?” Kiku thought aloud, ticking off items on his fingers as he went. 

“I think that just about covers it,” Al was averagely sure. “Except, maybe treats? ‘Cause you wanna train him up, ya know?” Kiku nodded in agreement, walking through the doors of the shop. 

Pet stores always have a very distinct smell, Alfred noticed. And he was about 78% sure that most of it was the rodent section. 

Alfred  _ also _ noticed that whenever two greasers in leather jackets and jeans rolled up to better show off their sweet kicks walked into a store, they magically got twice the regular amount of attention from the employees! 

Kiku assured Al that he and the nice, helpful lady would be able to find all the stuff, so he could go look at the animals. Alfred resisted the urge to kiss him because  _ aww, he knows me so well _ ! With a parting friendly pat on the shoulder to his boyfriend, Al proceeded to scamper off to go gawk at the reptiles.

About 10 minutes later, Kiku found him again... making faces at the fish. He now carried a gigantic sack of puppy food, two light blue dog bowls, and a rubber chew toy shaped like a steak all piled in his arms. Pochi was doing the honors of carrying another toy, this one shaped like a comically round pig, in his mouth on the way to the counter, tail wagging. “He… he knocked over a display of chew toys getting to the pig, but… I think we’ve got everything,” Kiku puffed around the dog food sack that was almost half his size. Al smiled at him, quietly offering to help him with the haul and ending up balancing the food on his hip. 

And then they got up to the counter and all was well and good… until they got a look outside. 

One thing about the weather in the Midwest portion of the United States-- when people say that if you don’t like the weather, all you’ve gotta do is wait 5 minutes, they’re not really kidding. 

How the actual  _ heck _ it started  _ torrentially downpouring _ like it was within the brief period of time they had been inside, Alfred didn’t know. But it was freaking raining. Undoubtedly  _ freezing _ rain, going by the outside temperature before. How it wasn’t coming down as  _ ice _ or  _ sleet _ was miraculous, but there it was.  _ A crapton of rain _ . Just suddenly there. And they had to walk home in it. Alright. 

Al and Kiku stepped outside together, instantly being greeted with a hundred tiny droplets of liquid ice. They were going to begin their trudge back, but then Kiku faced resistance. From Pochi. He didn’t want to step a paw out of the store. Kiku sighed, running a hand down his face. “He doesn’t like the water…” he remembered.

_ And so _ , that was how Alfred ended up with a dog zipped up under his jacket, his small, furry head poking out just enough so he could ceaselessly lick Al’s chin as he cradled his fuzzy little rump through the jacket. And that was also how Kiku got dumped with the food and other supplies as the two of them jogged through the rain trying to get back to Kiku’s place. 

 

Upon arrival at Kiku’s front door, they were all soaked and chilled to the bone and Al now reeked of wet dog. Kiku opened the door, the both of them tired and shivering and dripping everywhere. Al unzipped his jacket and released the canine, who then proceeded to shake water all over the entryway. Alfred kicked off his shoes and socks with a squelch. Kiku went up to his tiptoes to kiss Al’s mouth. “Thank you for carrying Pochi,” he breathed into the air between them. Alfred kissed him right back. 

“No problem, babe,” the American assured. Kiku ran a hand through the blond’s sopping wet hair. 

“Ugh, we all need to change out of these clothes…” Kiku remarked. “Here, I think I might have a pair of pants that may fit you…” 

Turns out, Ivan had once left a pair of pajamas over before Yao had moved out. Naturally, Yao had stolen/adopted them as his own even though there was literally no way that those pants could even marginally fit on that dude’s body. And when Yao  _ had _ moved out, instead of returning them to his boyfriend like a normal human being, he had passed them onto Kiku. Kiku wasn’t sure why; something about how they might be of some value in a garage sale or something of the nature. 

Anyway, those were the pants that Kiku had to offer because there was no way that Al could get something of Kiku’s on. So, while Kiku threw the both of their clothes in the drier and got changed himself, Alfred got to change into these fuzzy PJ pants with matryoshka dolls on them that were so big on him they could very well pass for clown pants and also were previously worn by someone who had never been proven  _ not _ an enemy spy… 

Holding the pants up with one hand and pulling his jacket (that wasn’t  _ too _ damp on the inside, but  _ did  _ smell like dog) with the other, Alfred stepped out of the bathroom, looking for Kiku. The handsome human in question walked out of his bedroom, newly attired in a dry anime t-shirt and sweatpants, followed closely by Pochi. Kiku stopped in his tracks to take in Alfred, who was zipping up his leather jacket over his bare skin, the pants managing to hang on his hips. Al grinned, stepping forward and placing his hands on Kiku’s waist, staring into his eyes. “There’s my gorgeous fella,” Alfred crooned in a low voice. Kiku looked away bashfully, but he was smiling, placing a small hand over Alfred’s. 

The blond backed up a tad, spreading his arms wide to better show off what he was now mentally dubbing the ‘commie clown pants’. “How do I look?” Alfred asked. 

_ Plop _ .

And thus, the pants were no longer on Alfred’s body. 

It would have been bad enough under regular circumstances, but it  _ certainly _ didn’t help that he had been going commando under those because his briefs were in the drier with his other stuff.  

Al dropped to the ground, tugging them back up faster than what was usually humanly possible in his mortification. 

And then he was helping Kiku clean up a nosebleed. 

 

The storm raged outside and Kiku made them both coffee to sip on together and banish the leftover chill. They sat on the sofa, Kiku leaning against him contently, listening to the loud weather in the silence. It was almost a surreal feeling, such violent forces of nature pounding on the house around them, but yet they were safe and dry and warming up together. It was rather peaceful, actually. 

And then the power cut out. 

It just about scared the pants off of Alfred too, instantly going to cling to his boyfriend (who had, luckily, set his coffee down). Kiku gently and calmly peeled Alfred off of him, rising to go grab some candles until the lights turned back on. 

He came back with a blanket, a lighter, and five little candles of different sizes and shapes, lighting them each and setting them around. Kiku smiled lightly at Al, covering them both with the blanket and crawling up next to his side. 

It was pretty dark aside from the candles glowing softly; the storm shadowing the outside. But it was okay, even if Alfred was still trying to get his heart rate to go down after that. He pulled Kiku closer, feeling his warmth as he hugged him. Alfred buried his face in his black, feathery hair, despite the fact that it was still damp. “Can I kiss you?” he asked quietly after a few beats of silence. Kiku looked up at him, taking in his face, his own expression placid as he brought Alfred in for a slow, caring kiss by the lapels of his jacket. 

“Of course,” Kiku answered, the both of them breaking into smiles. 

“Well, in that case…” Alfred mused, pressing their foreheads together before playfully going after him, pressing their lips together happily as he all but tackled the boy, sort of French dipping him sitting down. Kiku squawked a little in surprise, flailing some to steady himself and ending up with his arms looped around Alfred’s neck and one leg across him. Kiku was laughing, pulling Alfred closer as he subconsciously tightened his grip at the feeling of Al showering his face with tiny kisses from his jaw to his cheek until their smiling lips were united once more. 

Kiku hummed, letting Alfred kiss him in the candlelight. Al held him firmly, his eyes falling closed at the feeling of Kiku’s mouth on his. The black-haired boy parted his lips slightly in an unspoken invitation that the blond gladly accepted. Kiku made a pleased sound in the back of his throat at the feeling of Alfred’s tongue slipping into his mouth, his fingers toying with the hair on the back of the American’s neck. Al pulled away slowly so they both could catch their breath, finding himself smiling again at the sight of his boyfriend. “Here, this’s hurting my back holding you up,” Alfred breathed, still leaning over Kiku and holding him off the sofa. 

Alfred tugged Kiku easily up onto his lap sideways, stretching his back as the strain was taken off before pressing a sweet kiss to Kiku’s cheek. Kiku laughed quietly, repositioning himself so that he was now  _ straddling _ the American. Kiku chuckled as Al blushed a deep red at the position, tilting the blond’s chin up with a few fingers. “Is this okay?” he murmured. Al swallowed hard. 

“Uh, y-yeah,” Alfred managed to stutter out, his face  _ burning _ . Kiku leaned forward, kissing him much gentler than what Al met him with. After a few seconds of a sloppy mess, they got a rhythm more or less figured out. Kiku leaned him back into the couch, his small hands pressing into the leather covering Alfred’s torso as they drowned in each other. And  _ wow _ leather on bare skin was not comfortable, it being all of a sudden very hot and therefore sticky in there. Alfred squirmed a little, trying to not break the kiss as he moved a hand in between them to try and unzip it just a tad to get some  _ air _ . Kiku was the one to break away, smiling at him sympathetically upon realizing his predicament. He placed a hand on Alfred’s cheek. 

“That  _ can’t _ be comfortable. I could assist you in taking it off, if you like?” Kiku asked. Al nodded his assent quickly. 

“Go right ahead, baby.” 

Kiku looked him right in the eye the whole time, unzipping the jacket almost torturously slow and then  _ finally _ pushing it off his shoulders. Kiku slid his hands around his waist affectionately, the feeling much different on bare skin. Alfred remembered to breathe. His eyes flickered to Kiku’s kiss-swollen lips, mentally willing them closer. Kiku was watching him, a half-smile on his face as a he once more leaned in… And pecked him on the cheek last second, leaving Al hanging with his eyes closed and mouth slightly open. Alfred whined in protest. Kiku cracked up into laughter, running a hand through Alfred’s hair. “I’m sorry, I had to,” he  _ giggled _ before pushing flush against Alfred, kissing him full on the mouth and swallowing anymore words. 

The candles gave the whole room a dim, flickering glow. The occasional lightning flash illuminated them in a harsh white light, lost in each other’s mouths. Alfred’s mind was in a gooey haze, his brain occupied with  _ Kiku _ . His lips, his teeth, his tongue. His  _ hands _ \-- one bracing himself on Alfred’s stomach while the other knotted in his hair. And then there was the-- his thought process was effectively cut off as Kiku shifted upwards slightly, slowly and deliberately drawing his tongue along the roof of Alfred’s mouth before settling back down, managing to grind down on his lap in the process. Alfred inhaled sharply against his lips, his hands instinctively shooting forward to still his hips. 

Kiku noticed the reaction, halting in his kissing to search Al’s face for a moment, curious. Then, he experimentally ground his ass down in a small circle, gauging the reaction as Alfred’s head fell back against the couch, trying not to make a sound but still releasing a high-pitched puff of air. “ _ God _ , Kiku…” he wasn’t sure whether he was going to tell him to stop or  _ please keep doing that _ , so he said nothing. And Kiku did it again, more confidently this time, holding onto him by the waist and earning an “ _ Nngh _ !” sound from Alfred. Kiku kissed his exposed neck, nipping at his adam’s apple. 

“You make the prettiest sounds,” he commented, his breath hot on Al’s skin. 

“K-Kiss me,” was all he could say to that. Kiku was happy to oblige, kissing him hard and hot and heavy, their teeth clicking in their hurry. Their tongues writhed chaotically, Alfred gasping and panting against him, his breath hitching in his throat every time Kiku moved against the very apparent bulge in the clown pants. Al held onto Kiku with almost bruising strength, adjusting him slightly so that he’d grind back down just  _ right _ … Alfred watched Kiku roll his body, the friction feeling  _ amazing _ and, oh, the noises that it was coaxing out of Al again and again, just wanting him to never stop doing  _ that _ . He was losing his mind, if it wasn’t already hopelessly gone… “Hey, Kiku?” Alfred found himself gasping out as Kiku rocked against him.

“Hmm?” Al squeezed his eyes shut tightly, knowing he’d regret this. 

“We… We shouldn’t.” Kiku pulled away, looking at him calmly. 

“Alfred, we don’t have to do a thing you don’t want to--”

“No, I… I want to.  _ God _ , I  _ want _ to do so much… But… Let’s  _ not _ . Not today, anyway…” There, he’d said it. He deserved a prize. Kiku smiled kindly at him, pressing one more chaste kiss to his lips. 

“Alright,” he whispered between them. He didn’t seem remotely upset or disappointed. Just. ‘Alright’, actually. 

“I’m sorry, like, I seriously want to blow you right now, but I know that I probably  _ shouldn’t _ and that we should wait a bit and all even though I really don’t  _ want _ to. And I dunno, I always kinda pictured my first time being with someone I’d dated for years and with candles and rose petals and junk and… I mean, not to say that I would count any fooling around we could’ve done  _ today _ as my ‘first time’, but I--” Kiku silenced his word vomit with another doting kiss. 

“ _ Alfred _ ,” he said. “It’s  _ fine _ .”

“Really?” Al needed to make sure. 

“Really.” Kiku got up off him, popping his back. “Would you like some water or…?” he asked. Al ran a hand through his hair, sitting up awkwardly. 

“Yeah, that’d be awesome,” he decided, offering his boyfriend a smile, which he returned before heading off into the kitchen. Al sat there twiddling his thumbs, not entirely sure what to do now. Plus, on top of all of everything, a certain part of his anatomy was still determined to make his life more difficult than it had to be. Thank goodness for the blanket, then. 

Kiku returned with two unopened water bottles and, bless him, Oreos and milk. 

Alfred scooted over happily, patting the spot beside him. Kiku sat down with a smile on his face, careful not to spill the milk. The blond spread the blanket over both of their shoulders, tucking Kiku in closer as he curled up against his side. 

He was so cute and small and warm and perfect and Alfred wanted to kiss him so bad. So he did. Al moved to connect their mouths gently, taking Kiku’s bottom lip between his own. He pulled away after a moment or ten, his eyes reopening after closing on their own. Alfred smiled at his boyfriend, fondly swiping a thumb across his bottom lip to get rid of the spit. Kiku blushed, laughing a little, and Al’s heart just about burst. Alfred stroked some hair out of Kiku’s face as he kissed him one more time. “You’re so beautiful,” Al whispered when their faces were centimeters apart. Kiku leaned their foreheads together, entwining their fingers under the blanket, smiling. 

“Thank you… You are a very pretty greaser yourself,” Kiku said, a partially teasing tone detectable. Alfred laughed loudly, giving him a full kiss that they both could make appreciative noises at. 

Then, Alfred had to stop to take some interest in the cookies that Kiku had brought. Kiku just chuckled at him, leaning against his side under one of his arms as the American rubbed his hands together at the thought of tearing into the brand new package of Oreos. 

He all but dove for them, applying his usual method of pulling the halves apart, eating the filling, and  _ then _ dipping the two cookies in milk. Kiku also went for one, eating it with admittedly less enthusiasm than Alfred. Which was simply unacceptable. Therefore, Al endeavored to change that. Oreos are a gift from above and should be eaten as such. 

Alfred took an Oreo in his mouth, turning towards his boyfriend and bumping him with his shoulder for him to take the other half. Kiku held his face still with one hand and bit into the cookie as well, their lips brushing. It was messy and there were going to be crumbs  _ everywhere _ from doing that… and it was  _ awesome _ . Yeah, Alfred probably enjoyed it a bit too much, but hey, it was Oreos they were dealing with. 

So he did it again. Kiku was outwardly laughing at his silliness now, but took the cookie between his teeth once more, looking at him for a second more in the close proximity before biting it off. 

They went on sorta like that, feeding each other Oreos (though, not as much from their mouths) as they talked. Alfred laid across Kiku, looking up at him contently as their topics flowed from one subject to another. Kiku had taken to absently stroking a few fingers along his face.

“So… You speak Japanese…” Alfred brought up at one point. Kiku looked down at him curiously, raising a questioning eyebrow. He ran a hand through Alfred’s already tousled hair, playing lightly with the locks. 

“Yes…? It is my first language,” he confirmed. Al nodded. 

“How would you say ‘goodbye’ in Japanese… ‘Cause I know a greeting would be ‘’ _ kon'nichiwa _ ’, right?”

“That is correct…” Kiku nodded. “And ‘goodbye’ would be ‘ _ sayōnara _ ’.” Alfred sat bolt upright.

“HEY! I’VE HEARD THAT BEFORE!” he exclaimed as though he’d had an epiphany. “I just thought it was some kinda phrase or somethin’…” Kiku smiled, shaking with quiet laughter at the reaction. 

“Well… It’s Japanese.” Alfred nodded, settling back down on the comfy part of Kiku’s thighs. Kiku offered him another Oreo from his fingers. Al plucked the top cookie off. The American looked Kiku straight in the eye as he sensually licked off all the cream. Kiku swatted him on the shoulder to scold him as Alfred giggled like an ornery kindergartener. 

Al took the rest of the cookie in his mouth, chewing happily. “How would you say ‘cheese’?” he asked through a mouthful in a way that would make Artie cringe. Kiku stared at him questioningly. 

“Cheese?” he had to make sure he’d heard correctly. Alfred nodded, shrugging. 

“I dunno. Just seems like something that one should know in as many languages as possible. It’s ‘ _ fromage _ ’ in French. I asked Francis,” he tried to explain. 

“It’s ‘ _ chīzu _ ’ in Japanese,” Kiku informed him. Alfred repeated it back to him, amused by the sound of it. They lapsed into relative silence as Kiku played with the blonde’s hair, Al’s eyes closed at the feeling of his fingers massaging slightly. 

That was, until a gigantic roll of thunder shook the house, making them both jump. They weren’t the only ones startled by it either. Pochi yelped in the next room over, his tiny paws carrying him as fast as they could manage. The ball of fluff was a blur as it leapt up onto the couch with them, burrowing between them under the blanket and Kiku’s arm. The poor thing was shaking like a leaf as the two pet him and Kiku tried talking soothingly, holding him in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Niko is the Niko Niko Republic if anyone was confused (because apparently my friend was).


	22. Talk

The storm had lightened up considerably, Arthur Kirkland noted drowsily as the  _ bloody _ Sun started peeking in through the crack in the curtains again. He nuzzled further into Francis’ shoulder, hoping to block it out. 

The frog, of course, was still fast asleep, his hair a positively matted  _ mess _ strewn across his face, moving slightly with every breath he took. Arthur was situated belly-down, their legs all tangled together, and with an arm flopped lazily around Francis’ waist. 

Arthur supposed he owed Ivan and Yao a gift basket of sorts. God, he couldn’t recall how long it had been since he’d been able to laze around naked in bed like this, napping off their, ah,  _ eventful  _ night of passionate lovemaking, really only waking up to go another round or change to a more comfortable napping position (aside from Francis bringing him a cuppa just how he liked and crepes at some hour of the morning). 

Ugh. ‘ _ Lovemaking _ ’. As atrocious as that sounded, there really wasn’t anything else he could call it. What, with their slow, indulgent pace, intense, meaningful kisses, and multitudes of little breaths of ‘ _ I love you _ ’… 

They hadn’t moved much from the bed  _ at all _ , actually. Which, at that point for Arthur, was a right good thing too, considering how sore his arse was after all that. Come to think of it, he’d likely be limping the rest of the week. Worth it. 

The sex came as a surprise to no one. The only eyebrow-raiser being that Francis could possibly be in the mood after the beat down he’d received, the evidence of which being painfully apparent all over him. However, one should never underestimate that particular Frenchman’s capacity to be up for a good shag. Arthur, of all people, should know _ that _ . 

Though, there  _ was _ also the matter of him having not lied for one second about needing to talk to Arthur. Holding his hand the entire way back to their now-shared house, Arthur had been thoroughly convinced that this whole ‘talking’ thing was just about the lamest excuse for ‘we’d rather not have people in the house as we’re rogering the daylights out of each other’… Turns out, that wasn’t entirely the case.

Arthur could replay the whole conversation in his mind from the moment that Francis sat him down in the kitchen, having something to say. And he did. Over and over. 

 

“Arthur, could we… could we just sit and talk for a moment? Seriously?” he had asked. Arthur remembered being confused, a certain feeling of dread and anxiety coming over him. Francis? Serious? And not pouncing on him now that they had an entire night to themselves? 

“Of course…” Arthur had assured, his mind whirling a million miles an hour and making him dizzy enough to have a seat across from his lover. Francis had been quiet for a time, thinking. 

“I love you,” he had decided to start off with. Arthur informed him that the feeling was mutual. “I have for  _ such _ a long time…” Arthur waited as he paused, staring straight into his bruised face, his heart jumping all over the place in time with his mind’s assumptions. “And I know you never wanted me to say it. I know that you didn’t want to hear it… because it could change. I respected that… And well… I have still been thinking…” Arthur had interrupted him there with a snide comment simply to get him smiling once again. “ _ I have been thinking _ . Now, lately, more than ever, actually… And after tonight…” Francis had chuckled to himself there. “Tonight, as in, the scene on the side of the road. Not… You know…” He gestured to his face or, more specifically, the damage there. 

“Where are you going with this, frog?” Arthur’s throat had felt like it had been closing up and that much had, embarrassingly, shown in his voice. 

“Well, I  _ was _ getting there,” Francis had sighed. “I love you, Arthur Kirkland, and I have wanted— _ needed _ —to discuss this with you for… I’m not entirely sure how long… but… I never could bring myself to do it, it just seemed unfair.”

Arthur was holding onto every little word, trying to pick out anything that would tell him that this wasn’t some long, heartfelt goodbye. That Francis  _ wasn’t _ going to tell him that he was leaving for God-knows-what. Honestly, Arthur was getting to the point where he was trying to reassure himself that it wouldn’t be because of  _ him _ , but likely for business purposes. Money was the strongest force in the world, no matter what Francis would argue, was it not?

“But, Arthur, you told me you loved me—”

“And I meant it,” Arthur had felt the need to interject gruffly, though that wasn’t ‘fair’ to him either.

“And I believe you. Which is why I need to talk to you…” 

“Well, get on with it already.” Perhaps, he was thinking, it would be easier if it were like a Band-Aid—ripping it off quickly was a horrid thought, but ultimately better. Francis had taken his hand, running his thumb over his knuckles. 

“Arthur, I simply wanted to know your thoughts on the matter of—”  _ Moving somewhere I can’t possibly hope to follow. Long-distance relationships that would never work. Leaving me. _ Arthur’s mind tried finishing his sentence. “—marriage,” Francis said. 

Arthur remembered a sensation something akin to being blindsided by a car. 

He also remembered the lack of air that was suddenly occupying his lungs. 

Francis had been watching his reaction carefully with a guarded expression. “M-My… thoughts?” Arthur had to repeat back to him. “On…  _ marriage _ ?” he sounded like he was trying desperately to say it with an assassin holding a pillow over his face. Arthur remembered laughing for a few seconds. Hysterically. Caught somewhere in feeling shell-shocked,  _ unimaginably  _ relieved, and a whole new kind of anxious sinking all at once. “Francis, I think you forget that I am a man. That you are  _ also _ a man. That we are  _ both _ men. And that a marriage is a thing that two men cannot have together.” It was a rather stupid thing to say, given the weight of the situation, but it was true. Francis chewed on the side of his cheek. 

“Arthur, I know this. It would not be a legally recognized union, but the court system getting involved is not what makes a marriage a marriage. It should be the signifying ceremony for the bonding of the partners’ souls, it should be the vows to each other, the irrevocable promise that they will be there  _ always _ for each other. Together. Living out their lives, getting through life’s troubles  _ together _ . Marriage should not be counted as purely paperwork; it’s a commitment to the one which you love above all others,” Francis said firmly, the emotions that burned behind his words something that would make anyone feel small. The Englishman squeezed his hand.

“Pretty words. Francis, are you asking me to marry you?” 

“ _ Non _ ,” Francis had sighed before smiling wryly. “I don’t have a ring. What a tasteless proposal  _ that _ would have been!” he had to pause there. “I was wanting to know if you thought it was something that you believed  _ could _ be done, official marriage license or not… I suppose I just wanted to talk about it, lest I do something that we’d both regret happening…”

Arthur had kissed him at that point. “Believe it or not, it’s hard to regret a moment spent with you, frog,” Arthur had said. It wasn’t his most original line. “If you’re going to propose an illegal, unrecognized marriage, then so be it. I’d say yes.” He’d pressed their foreheads together there. “Was planning on staying with you long as I could anyway. Might as well throw some vows in there,” he grinned, if a little shakily. Francis scoffed slightly. 

“You’re a moron… But I love you,” the Frenchie had told him, grinning right back. Arthur had  _ then _ proceeded to lessen the distance between them, looping his arms around Francis’ neck as he sat sideways, legs crossed, on his lap. 

“But still not as thick as you,” Arthur chuckled before pressing their lips together. The Englishman really couldn’t remember at what  _ exact _ point the whole realization that, yes, that talk was indeed something that had  _ happened _ . To  _ him _ . But he did remember that after their bout of awfully nostalgic, tender kissing, he was getting all choked up. “And I love you too,” Arthur had said. And then Francis had told him that Arthur was trembling. And then Arthur had, to put it simply, lost it and broken down into tears as if he’d been hit by some sudden tsunami of all the emotions he was trying to ward off and dam up. 

Ugh. Feelings. So distastefully messy. 

It’d been a long evening. He supposed he was entitled to let a few of these ‘feelings’ things through the cracks in the dam, but then the feelings just _had_ to burst through and shatter the whole thing. 

So... Yeah. Arthur had cried. Gross and wet sobs tearing free as Francis only held him tighter and kissed him through it until Arthur could hardly stand it and he had to pull away to hide his face in his lover’s shirt. Francis had rubbed his back, gently asking why he was crying, as there were innumerable possible answers.

_ Because all that’s happened tonight has finally caught up to me. Because you came stumbling back in bruised and bloody. Because I couldn’t do a thing about it, no matter how much your stupid self means to me. Because of how much you  _ do _ mean to me, Francis. Because I love you more than  _ my _ stupid self can manage to tell you. Because I never let myself dream that I’d have this conversation with you. Because until you outright said it, I could only let myself assume the worst. Because losing you in my life very well might just be ‘the worst’. _

“Because I thought you were going to tell me you were going to leave,” was what, for some ungodly reason, came out of Arthur’s mouth. 

“ _ Non _ . No. I never want to leave your side.” Some more kissing. 

“You managed to give me a right good scare, you did,” Arthur had said lowly, his accent thicker than ever. 

“Would you mind terribly if I did my best to make it up to you,  _ mon amour _ ?”

“You had  _ better _ , frog.”

 

Arthur sighed to himself there in their bed, subconsciously hugging Francis closer as he did his best to recall every last detail. Stretching slightly, Arthur entwined his fingers with Francis’ limp ones, more than content there the rest of the day... 

The door banged open downstairs. “ARTIIIE! FRANCIIIS! I’M HOOOME!” Alfred felt the need to shout. 

Arthur groaned. The curse of little brothers. Ah, well, nothing he could do about that.

He propped himself up on an elbow above a still sound-asleep Frenchman, brushing his long hair out of his face and leaving a trail of kisses from his chin to his lips. Arthur felt his lover’s breathing and heart beat pick up as he slowly woke up to drowsily mold his lips to kiss back. “Francis,” Arthur whispered through the kiss as Francis slipped his tongue into his mouth. Francis just sighed, bringing his arms up to wrap around Arthur. Arthur stopped him with a hand to his bare chest. Blue eyes fluttered open to meet green. “Alfred is here, love,” Arthur explained quietly. Francis let his head flop back onto his mound of multiple pillows. 

“You woke me for that?” he complained, stretching lackadaisically. “Well,” he hummed, running his hands up and down Arthur’s spine. “I suppose it is the boy’s own fault for returning so early,” Francis purred, pressing Arthur flush against him, skin on skin as he made his way to Arthur’s neck that was already covered in marks given by him. 

“ _ Please _ ,” Arthur scolded. “It is anything  _ but _ ‘early’. Look at the sun! Lad has probably been gone all day. Up and at ‘em, Frenchie.” Arthur rolled off him, getting up despite his lower half’s protests, and popping his back as he scanned the room for their clothes that had been carelessly discarded on the floor. He went to rummage in his drawers for some clean pants and trousers, very much aware of Francis’ eyes on him. “Frog, I can feel you watching me,” Arthur informed him. 

“But of course,” came the long-haired man’s voice closer than originally anticipated. He placed his hands on Arthur’s hips, nuzzling him with his scratchy stubble playfully. “How could I resist?” A sweet peck to his cheek and a firm squeeze to the bum and Francis wandered off to find something for himself as well, Arthur refusing to allow him to go around naked when the boys were home.  

Arthur and Francis walked downstairs side by side. “Sore,  _ mon cher _ ?” Francis murmured to him, knowing full well the answer was ‘ _ yes _ ’. Arthur just shot him a look that left him chuckling and focused on the boy that was busy rummaging through the cabinets. 

“Hey, guys!” Alfred greeted, unnecessarily loud as ever. “How’re you?” he asked to neither of them in particular. 

“Fantastic,” Arthur sighed, leaning against the table. 

“Sweet.” Alfred plopped down in one of the chairs with a handful of crisps he’d managed to locate, his posture something that any mannerly human being would find atrocious, but also something that Alfred was well aware of and refused to fix purely for the sake of greaser image. Arthur didn’t have the heart to tell him that he was really a poor example of a greaser in the first place. 

Francis sat opposite him, asking all the required questions: how his time had been at Ivan and Yao’s, if they were going to be sent a bill for Alfred eating all the couple’s food, etc. Alfred was certainly a talker, and a loud, long-winded one at that. Francis seemed to have the responsible, listening and nodding adult part covered, so Arthur went ahead and let his mind wander…

It wandered mostly to Francis; it seemed to be doing that a lot lately. Arthur watched him, noting that despite pain meds and gentle handling, Francis was still in quite a bit of pain from the beating he took (and still pretending that he was not). It was a wonder there were no broken bones _or_ internal damage, going off of the extensive range of damage Arthur had noticed across his body. It wasn't a pretty sight, but it was already on its way to healing. His mind wandered some more to last night as he tried to stop his fretting over his lover, knowing that Francis didn't want him to worry.

And then there was the topic of marriage…  _ Marriage _ . Marriage, as in, Arthur Kirkland becoming unlawfully wedded to Francis Bonnefoy. It was such a preposterously foreign notion.  It  _ was _ something that was a long time in the making, though. 

He wasn’t sure if he  _ or _ the ever-romantic Francis knew  _ exactly _ how long they’d been together. They could guess, of course. Years. It had been years… They were never the poster couple for soulmates and he was sure that they probably never would be. They bickered. Oh, they were infamous for the bickering. Pettily and not-so-much alike. Over the long expanse of time, they’d split up and come crawling back  _ multiple _ times, some bigger deals than others… And Arthur wasn’t sure if they were supposed to start all over with tallying the length of their relationship when that happened, or just mash it all together because they’d come  _ back _ to each other, or be mind-numbingly exact and subtract the time they’d been ‘broken-up’ from the time they’d been ‘back together’...  _ Whatever the case may be _ , the answer to the question of ‘how long they’d been a couple’ was ‘ _ a bloody long time _ ’. 

 

God, he could still remember when Francis and little Matthew had taken a summer trip back to their French vineyard. He had felt like a lost, restless soul, all cranky and snappy. And then there was a primary school Alfie Jones being  _ utterly bamboozled _ when Arthur would occasionally be all chipper and smiling. He could recall a precise instance of himself reading a newspaper with a smile on his face for the first time in a while and he remembered Alfred crawling over the back of the couch to poke at his face. “Why are you smiiiling?” the little lad had asked him. 

“Because I am happy,” Arthur had told him. 

“Why?” he had wanted to know. Arthur had merely shrugged with a chuckle. “Stop it!” Al had exclaimed suddenly after a moment or two. 

“Whatever for?”

“You’re acting  _ weeeeird _ !” 

“My apologies for that then, Alfred.”

Alfred, of course, had had no clue in the world what was the matter with his grumpy elder brother who was all of a sudden smiling willy nilly… But Francis had called. 

Or, there was the  _ other _ time when he had had Bonnefoy on the line and there was Alfred, squinting around the corner at him. “You’re doing it again,” Alfred had said. 

“One moment, frog,” Arthur had told the man on the other end. “What, Alfie?”

“Being all weird and smiley.” Arthur had laughed at that. 

“Is that so? In that case, would you like to speak with little Matthew?” The both of them had been such wee little tots then, the best of friends. Just the mention of the other boy had then-teeny Alfred gasping in excitement. 

 

Alfred  _ definitely _ wasn’t teeny anymore, his height and weight surpassing  _ Arthur’s _ . Arthur looked at him sitting there, shoving food down his piehole, still yacking on and on, and decided he was at least a  _ little  _ easier to bear back then. 

Times had changed. They had all changed with it, for better or for worse. 

But Francis was still there. With him. And, oh, how Arthur loved him for that and everything else. 

They weren’t a perfect couple. They never had been. They never would be. But Arthur didn’t want perfect. He would do just fine with the frog, thanks. And  _ that _ was what he wanted. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas/Happy holidays, guys!!


	23. Party

Alfred nuzzled into the crook of Kiku’s neck, tickling him with his hair until the black-haired boy was a laughing, blushing mess pushing him away playfully. Alfred had mercy, moving back to smush their lips together, the two of them smiling into the kiss. Al pulled back just to look at Kiku’s face, brushing a strand of hair behind his ear. “I love your eyes, babycakes,” Alfred told him, kissing his eyelids before hugging him tightly, the Japanese boy melting against his chest. “Seriously, jellybean, you’re so cute.” Al rested his chin on the top of his head. 

Alfred had learned something that night. Kiku was a bit of a sucker for ridiculously cute pet names. Quite honestly, he would be more than content to hold him the whole night, pointing out every little thing he adored about the Japanese boy and tacking on a sweet term of endearment  _ just _ to see him trying  _ not _ to blush when Alfred could feel his heart fluttering in his chest beneath his hands. 

Al had taken him out to dinner twice that week, purely because he could and he wanted to. In fact, they had just gotten back not five minutes ago. He had intended to tell him goodbye at the door, but he didn’t have the heart to leave Kiku  _ quite _ yet. Not after he had turned Kiku into a scarlet, almost swooning puddle of goo when Al had inconspicuously taken his hand under the table and called him  ‘ sweetiepie’. He wasn’t done exploiting it yet. 

Oh, it had been about a week or so since he’d had that  _ delightful _ slumber party at Ivan and Yao’s. A week that hadn’t been any fun at all for a good portion of the day because school  _ still _ sucked  _ so _ bad. At least picking on him seemed to be becoming old hat (nobody dared mess with Matthew; not when Gil was around, which was practically always). But it was the  _ after _ school that one lived for anyway, right?

Because  _ after _ school was Kiku. Sure, it was homework and food and a whole bunch of other stuff, but  _ Kiku _ . 

Alfred smooched Kiku on the top of the head. “And you’re so easy to hang around, pumpkin. Ya know that? I could spend so long just talkin’ to ya, tootsie pop. Just as long as I get to kiss you and your pretty lips, angel cakes.” He punctuated it with a kiss to Kiku’s mouth. Kiku kissed him back, long and languidly. 

“It sounds like you’re calling me the entire inventory of a candy shop. Or perhaps a dessert menu,” he commented, not protesting. His eyes flickered back to his lips, Alfred taking the hint and kissing him again. Kiku looped his arms around Alfred’s neck and pulled him down, the two of them breaking the kiss to laugh a little. Al balanced himself on an arm, laying sideways along with Kiku, now hovering a little above him, their legs  all tangled. 

“That’s because you’re so sweet, lemon drop,” Al chuckled, rubbing their noses together in a nuzzling Eskimo kiss before placing a tiny smooch on the end of his nose. Placing a hand near his ear, Kiku drew him closer to slot their mouths together. 

“Hmm…” the Jap hummed, maybe an inch away. “Go on…” he smiled playfully, getting Alfred to laugh and grin right back. Al got comfy laying back down, cuddling Kiku to him. 

“And I love how nicely you fit in my arms, pudding pop,” he murmured, lips brushing against Kiku’s ear before he pressed a kiss to his temple. “‘S like I found a missing puzzle piece.” Alfred snuggled into the crook of Kiku’s neck comfortably, only better proving the point. 

Then, over Kiku’s shoulder, Al managed to glimpse the clock on the wall… which informed him it was 10 minutes until his curfew.  

Alfred hopped up suddenly, Kiku flailing in surprise and falling off the couch. “Sorry, Kiku…  just saw the time. I should get going,” he explained, helping his boyfriend up. Kiku sighed, looking over at the time too. 

“You’re right…” Kiku agreed reluctantly. Alfred gave his small hand a squeeze. 

“When can I see you again?” 

“As soon as possible.” Kiku stood on tiptoes to press a kiss to Alfred’s cheek. 

 

Alfred made it home right in the nick of time. Artie and Francis were talking in the living room as he made his presence known because, yes, he was home. Before curfew. No need for disciplinary actions to be taken. “Oh, Alfred!” Francis exclaimed happily, rushing over to him. “I’m throwing a party here! Ah... soon. Yes.”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Alfred had to pause him. “A party?! That sounds totally sweet! How’d you get Artie to agree with that?” he said excitedly right back, matching Francis’ enthusiasm. Francis clapped his hands together gleefully.

“Oh, he didn’t, but that is okay! Because what better way to show that we are doing wonderful than to have one of my glorious house parties,  _ non _ ?” 

“Hey, that’s awesome! I never got to come to one of your parties before!” Francis was a generally pretty well-liked person around town. The dude had a lot of friends. And his friends had friends too. And Francis was the sort of soc that occasionally invited his friends and his friends’ friends and sometimes even his friends’ friends’ friends to what had been described to Alfred as pretty nifty occurrences. One thing, though-- Arthur had never allowed him to attend one because alcohol was something always in abundance. And people got pretty whacky in party settings in general. Intoxication on top of that usually wasn’t the best thing for children to be around. 

“And I still say that he  _ shouldn’t _ be allowed to come, should we even  _ have _ this revelry of yours,” Arthur butted in, giving Alfred a firm look. 

“ _ Our _ revelry,  _ mon amor _ . We are both the man of this household now, are we not?” 

“ _ No _ , it is  _ your _ money and  _ your _ madness. I don’t want any part of the credit.”

“Ah, spectacular!” Francis declared. “Alfred may attend, then!” he announced, giving Alfred a smile. 

“How on  _ Earth _ did you even come to that conclusion?”

“Do not be a stick in the mud, Arthur. Matthew is coming, after all. It would simply be unfair if Alfred were unable to.”

“Matthew attending is just bad parenting on your part.”

“Good thing I am his big brother and not his father, then,  _ non _ ?”

“ _ Please _ , Arthur? It’s not like I’m a little kid anymore! And I’m not gonna be drinking or anything! I don’t see why I shouldn’t…” 

It went on like that a  _ while _ , okay? But, ultimately, Francis and Alfred turned out to be a dynamic duo when it came to going against Arthur. 

“ _ Fine _ , then!  _ Let him come _ to the bloody party! But don’t say I didn’t warn you!” was Arthur’s eventual cry of defeat signalling Francis and Alfred’s triumph. Alfred and Francis high-fived, much to Arthur’s displeasure. The Frenchman grinned over at him, taking his lover’s hand and kissing his knuckle. 

“And if something goes horribly wrong, you have all the right in the world to say ‘I told you so’, Arthur,” Francis told him. Arthur just kinda scoffed at that. “Oh, and Arthur?”

“What, frog?” Artie grumbled. 

“I love you.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Love you too.” Arthur stood, stretching his back and pressing a quick kiss to Francis’ cheek. Eugh. They were so sick in love. “ _ So _ ,  _ Alfred _ ,” Arthur went on, turning his attention to his little brother. 

“Yeah?”

“Are you going to invite  _ your _ special someone to be your date to the party? Do I finally get to meet her? Or learn a  _ thing _ about her, for that matter?” Arthur asked him. Alfred’s heart kind of shot up to his throat at that. Francis was very, very quiet, solemnly looking at him along with Arthur for his answer. Alfred coughed a little to clear his throat awkwardly. 

“‘Him’, actually,” Alfred corrected his brother. 

“Pardon?”

“I-I’ve got a boyfriend…” It was really quite hard to breathe. “So, uh, yeah. ‘Him’ not ‘her’... That’s why Francis told me about you and him being together a while back… ‘cause I admitted that I liked a guy. I was scared you two’d hate it…” Alfred was finding it super difficult to make eye contact with anyone. 

“Oh…” was the first thing Arthur said, looking to Francis who smiled slightly and shrugged. “Well, are you going to bring  _ him _ as your date to the party, then?” he asked Alfred. Al laughed a little, feeling like a weight had been taken off his chest. 

“Yeah,” he croaked. “Yeah, I think I will.”

 

Alfred figured out why bringing Kiku to a party that  _ Arthur _ would be at  _ just might be a problem  _ for himself, but it was after all that hooplah of admitting that, yes, he was dating a  _ boy _ . But hey, a party! They could sneak  _ around _ Arthur. The house was big and among a crowd, surely it wouldn’t be much of a problem. All of that would have to be improvised, no need for planning, so Alfred got to focus on the  _ positive _ side of it. And Kiku being with him at a totally cool party was about as ‘positive’ as the positive side could  _ get _ , really. 

And Kiku agreed to go with him. 

_ Therefore _ , he showed up at his boyfriend’s door to pick him up when it was time to get their party pants on.  

Alfred knocked on Kiku’s door as he was so used to doing. He waited, rocking on his feet excitedly. Tonight was going to be  _ brilliant _ . He could feel it in his bones; the adrenaline was already starting to get pumping and he hadn’t even seen Kiku’s face yet. He couldn’t wait for the party. In his mind, it’d be something along the lines of a child’s game of spies. They’d be running from, sneaking around, and avoiding being seen by Arthur at all costs all while mingling at the party. 

Sounded like a blast. 

He was pretty occupied with his fantasies for how the night would go down, but snapped right to attention when the door opened. Alfred broke into a grin, his heart making its presence known in his chest. Because Kiku stood there in front of him. The Jap was attired in a white dress shirt and jeans, looking more like a college student than a partygoer, but Alfred was loving it. 

Kiku smiled a little bashfully. “Good evening,” he greeted. Al shook his head to clear it.

“Hey, sweetheart!” he said, smiling toothily, all but tackling Kiku in a hug and taking a certain joy in the fact that he was just about the only one that could get away with doing that. Kiku patted him on the back, burying his head against Al’s shoulder. The blond almost didn’t want to pull away, but hey, they had places to be! 

Alfred bounded down the steps, opening the car door for his boyfriend. 

 

When the two arrived, the party was in full swing, even if the sky still had quite a ways to dim before it could be called nighttime. Music poured from the house, inviting them into the warmth of the dancing crowd. Cars of all different kinds lined the nearby street. Alfred was practically buzzing with anticipation as he hurried towards the door, making sure that Kiku was always close behind. 

Al walked right on in; he lived there after all. 

And  _ wow _ … There was a lot to mention. For one, people.  _ A ton _ of people packed and swaying and chatting and laughing goodnaturedly in the living room and the kitchen and just about everywhere there was an empty space that wasn’t upstairs (Alfred had a sneaking suspicion that some of the  _ downstairs _ bedrooms down the hall would be utilized once the alcohol kicked in some). Second, the  _ refreshment _ s. Francis had gone all out with petite finger foods on trays, bowls of chip and dip, soda, pitchers of water and lemonade, some cupcakes, and alcohol.  _ Plenty _ . Of alcohol and an assortment of it. From cans of beer to cheap bottles of wine to  _ whatever _ . Third, music cranked loud enough to be  _ easily _ heard above the ruckus of people. 

Alfred was so absorbed gawking around the completely transformed space that he wasn’t paying much attention to anything else. A hand was placed on his shoulder, making him jump. Because it wasn’t Kiku’s. 

Al whipped around to see… Francis’ grinning face. “ _ There _ you are!” Francis exclaimed, hardly spending a second of focus on the American before he was gushing all over Kiku. Francis vigorously shook Kiku’s hand, talking about how glad he was to meet him and how happy he was that Kiku could attend the party and that Alfred was such a lucky boy to have one so handsome and other typical Francis stuff. He was wearing makeup, Alfred noticed, but it didn't quite hide the black eyes and bruises. Kiku was nodding along, decently smiling, and replying politely. The whole acting-proper package. Alfred had to come to the poor guy’s rescue, slinging an arm across Kiku’s shoulders. 

“ _ So _ , Francis. Now that we’re all introduced, I think I’ll show my date here around and get food or… somethin’... I dunno, but we’re going to walk away now. Talk to you later, dude!” Alfred inserted. Francis pouted teasingly before smiling once more. 

“Yes, yes. You two have a good time now,” Francis shooed them along. Francis understood, even though they hadn’t really  _ talked _ about it, that the last thing that Alfred wanted was to be caught by Arthur with one of his foes. So Al was kinda hoping that he’d be helpful with that. 

Yeah, they should probably figure out Arthur’s whereabouts first, but then again there was also the  _ snack table  _ to be perused, so one had to weigh their priorities. Plus, one couldn’t sneak around with ninja-like stealth on an empty belly, right? Right!

Kiku followed close behind him, watching the people around him carefully, but not necessarily wanting to interact with them in any way. Alfred kept his arm slung over his shoulders, hoping it’d be a comforting ‘I’m here with you, babe’ gesture and not something mildly suffocating amongst an already thick crowd. 

But the crowd’s collective mood was lively and boisterous and Alfred couldn’t help but pick up on it. Even Kiku was slightly less tense than when they had first stepped in the door. Alfred bounced along a bit to the music as they made their way over to the all-important food. 

Al was busy loading up with a couple cupcakes (chocolate  _ and _ vanilla; he couldn’t decide, so he got both), shoving a handful of chips in his mouth as he poured himself a soda, and asking Kiku what he wanted (as he hadn’t immediately grabbed for anything from the table) semi-coherently through the food. So, he didn’t notice the Dane until he was all but tackled in a hug of greeting. “HEY, ALFRED AND KIKU!” Matthias Kohler exclaimed. “Awesome party, eh?!” 

“Yeah! Francis definitely knows what he’s doin’!” Alfred laughed happily back just as enthusiastically. Matthias nodded in agreement, a cup of beer already mostly empty in his hand. 

“I met him! He seems like a pretty cool guy! Thanks for suggesting he invite us!” Matthias’ face lit up as he talked. “Oh! Oh, speaking  _ of _ ! I brought some people for  _ you guys _ to meet too!”

Matthias then proceeded to drag over two new people, presenting them with a wide, grand gesture. “This is  _ Berwald _ !” the spiky-haired soc introduced a towering, glowering man with blond hair and glasses. He looked angry and menacing, but Alfred gave him a smile anyway. 

“Nice to meet ya, Berwald!” Al said, sticking his hand out to shake. Berwald’s hand was rough and calloused, but didn’t break the bones in the American’s hand, so that was good. 

“H’llo…” was all that the guy said in a very deep voice. Kiku followed his lead, shaking Berwald’s hand, having to crane his neck to look him in the eyes. 

“It is good to meet you,” Kiku told him politely. 

“And you,” was the succinct reply. 

“Ah, give us a smile, will you?” put in the other person standing at a much more reasonable height, hip-bumping Berwald. “Tino Väinämöinen,” he introduced himself to the couple with a kind smile and handshake. “And don’t worry about him. He’s not angry or anything,” Tino reassured them. 

They were a good group to talk to, Kiku loosening up and cracking a smile talking to Lukas and even Emil, neither of which were too pleased about the amount of people and mandatory socialization. (Emil’s problem, it seemed, was more toward having to be around all the people and socialize  _ and stay with the group that brought him _ .) Alfred was truly enjoying himself, standing there with Kiku in such a pumped up atmosphere chatting with some new friends. 

And then he spotted Arthur in the crowd. 

Arthur hadn’t spotted  _ them _ , which was lucky considering Alfred was to be found in probably the most expected location for him-- near the food. Al still figured they shouldn’t stick around that much longer in the same location if they wished to remain unfound, though. 

Al nudged Kiku with his elbow, alerting him to his big brother’s presence. The two of them said their goodbyes to the Nordics and wandered off into the crowd, this time Al being more aware of the faces around him. 

There were a lot of people he didn’t know. The unrecognized random faces were dubbed ‘civilians’. There were also some familiar ones too. Gilbert and Mattie walking along side by side. Antonio from the cafe trying to coax… what was his name…? Lovino! Trying to coax  _ Lovino _ out into the dancing mass of bodies. Ivan and Yao looking out at the people around them as though they’d never seen such a display of group merriment. Plus some more wandering around probably. Anyway, he called  _ them _ , the ones he  _ did _ know and knew  _ him _ ‘agents’ as well. Odds were, the civilians weren’t going to be any trouble. Convenient to blend in among. The  _ agents _ were possible other players in the game. _ They  _ could give Arthur directions if they saw him and Kiku. Dubbed ‘double threats’ were the ones that knew Kiku  _ as well _ as Alfred, as far as Alfred knew anyway. 

Yao started looking off in the near-ish general vicinity as him and his date. A double threat! Going to see them?!

Alfred all but dragged Kiku down behind a tall potted house plant, hoping it was stealthy enough. The weird looks from civilians didn’t count. Kiku gasped in surprise. “What are you doing?” he asked, playing along and kneeling beside Alfred who was attempting to curl to the size and shape of the ceramic pot. 

“Yao,” Alfred explained in his most serious of spy voices. “He almost saw us,” his tone was grave. Kiku looked at him a long while. 

“Alright… I am failing to see the problem here,” Kiku informed him. 

“Yao knows  _ me _ . Yao knows  _ you _ . He could tell Arthur about  _ both _ of us! He’s a double threat,” Alfred said, throwing his own terminology in there. “He could even give away our location! We have to be sneaky!” 

“Agreed… To an extent,” Kiku said hesitantly. “But if we are going to call upon ninja-like stealth to avoid our cover being blown…” Kiku smiled a bit, knowing he was appealing to Alfred’s Hollywood side. Hmm… The ninja and the secret agent… He liked the sound of that. Kiku was going on, though. “... Perhaps we could start by not crouching behind plants in the midst of a crowd?” he suggested. Alfred hopped to his feet.

“Good thinking, Kiku! We need to locate  _ better _ places to hide!” Al agreed, taking his date by the wrist (because by the hand was a little too taboo for some people’s tastes) and pulling him along eagerly, food and drink in his other hand/under his arm. 

Lucky for the both of them, Alfred knew all of the perfect hiding spots, maintaining his childhood title of hide and seek extraordinaire. 

So yeah, that was kinda how the two of them at one point in Alfred’s tour of all the possible hiding spots on the lower level of the house ended up in incredibly tight quarters squished behind a couch because Arthur had been passing by a little too close to comfort with a bottle of beer in each hand. 

Al could say that he was not, in fact, as small as he had been as a kid. He could also say, truthfully, that he was probably not really small  _ enough _ to be back there in the first place. So the couch was now scooted out at a rather odd angle to accommodate for them a bit.

Kiku was still pressed up very close against him. 

And they  _ might _ have kissed a little more than once very on purpose… and there might’ve been some tongue too,  _ BUT _ , hey, it was a party. They were supposed to enjoy themselves. Seriously though, there were, like, designated makeout areas for couples in the bedrooms down the hall (behind the couch may not have been one of those areas, but Alfred lived there-- as in, the house, not behind the couch, that’d be weird-- so it was alright). And it wasn’t like they were making out or anything. C’mon, they were behind a  _ couch _ . Get real.  

After the two had awkwardly wriggled themselves out from the area between the wall and the sofa, they came to find that Arthur was, without a doubt, nowhere in sight. It was  _ also _ about the time of the party when the alcohol was beginning to set in. Hence, more people out dancing without a care in the world…

“Hey, Kiks?” 

“Yes, Alfred?” Kiku replied, stretching from the sardine package conditions he’d just endured. Al fidgeted a little, wondering how great of an idea this was… Arthur could see them. People would know if they dared get too close. Kiku wasn’t a huge fan of the overwhelming amount of people  _ or _ dancing at parties  _ OR _ dancing at a party among the overwhelming amount of people. But still… 

“You… You wanna dance?” There. He’d said it. Kiku hesitated a long while. “You don’t have to or anything--” Alfred added hurriedly, but Kiku was nodding. Slowly. Unsurely. But nodding. Al grinned widely, which was enough to have Kiku smiling carefully back at him. 

The American cautiously slid his arm back over his date’s shoulders. Kiku leaned in close to his side. Alfred gave him a reassuring squeeze, resisting the urge to kiss the top of his head. 

It was a lively, mildly tipsy, happy sort of crowd swaying and bobbing along with the beat, just trying not to spill their refreshments on themselves. Looking around, Al took a bit of comfort in knowing that he was most definitely not the only one that had no clue how this whole ‘dancing’ thing worked. The thing about it, really, was to just move however felt halfway like it could be called dancing and have fun doing it, know that you look stupid, and know that you’re succeeding because it is still counted as dancing.

At least… That was the strategy Alfred was thinking he could get away with.

So he started swaying and bobbing along, moving his feet a little to the melody. Kiku stood stalk still with his hands clasped behind his back. The Jap held his head high to compensate for the fact that he had no clue what in the world to do. Alfred moved back and forth, giggling at his own attempts. Kiku smiled shyly at Al’s efforts, blushing at the thought of trying it too. 

The whole thing was ridiculous, which was the beauty of it, honestly. 

The blond nudged his boyfriend with his elbow playfully. “Here, just… Mirror me…? I mean, I don’t have a clue what I’m doing either, but…” he shrugged sheepishly, pumping two loose fists shoulder-high like he was miming punching himself in the chin as he swayed around. Kiku had to think about it for a moment, but eventually raised his arms, moving a teeny bit in time. Alfred cheered him on, the two of them laughing at each other and themselves alike. Sooner or later, Kiku had his own sort of slow, modest shimmy thing going on. 

It was fun. Alfred’s smile had Kiku smiling. 

And it felt like they were the only two on the planet. The rest was meaningless  _ noise _ . Al knew he was so, so smitten. He was  _ very _ well aware of that much. And there he was, dancing with the grace of a water buffalo at a party with his boyfriend, Kiku’s smile lighting up the entirety of his face as well as Alfred’s  _ world _ … He couldn’t be happier. 

So as the song changed to something more energetic and boisterous and Alfred and Kiku were swept along with the mood of the crowd around around them, the two of them dared to dance closer. 

Alfred was positive he’d never so much as touched Kiku around so many people, but then his hands were on Kiku’s shoulders, looking down into his  _ gorgeous _ eyes that were looking right back up at him as they tried out some footwork sort of things, stepping around in time and swaying. Kiku was so shy about it at first, but nobody actually gave them a second glance. A good number of them were already too intoxicated to count two teenage boys dancing together as out of place. The rest probably knew Francis to any extent  _ at all _ and decided it was to be expected at his party… Kiku slowly let one hand wander to rest gently on Al’s waist as the two of them moved together, ready to whip it away if someone looked their way funny. 

Alfred put a reassuring hand firmly over Kiku’s, the Jap jumping a bit in surprise and looking back to Al instead of at the people around him. The blond carefully swept some of Kiku’s hair out of his face, the two of them captured by the other’s eyes. “Hey. It’s okay,” the American said gently, only loud enough to be heard over the music by his boyfriend. “Keep your eyes on me. It’s just the two of us, baby.” That coaxed a smile out of Kiks… Which coaxed a smile out of Alfred. 

They danced. Kiku wrapped his arms around Al’s waist, holding him close. They swayed, letting the music take them just as the people around them let the alcohol do…

Perhaps it was the mood of the crowd affecting him. Perhaps it was having Kiku so openly holding him or holding Kiku back in return. Whatever it was, it was getting Alfred thinking. Thinking about Kiku mostly. About… feelings. And actually… about Artie too. Not his brother  _ specifically _ , but more the things that Alfred had been taught by him, the things that Alfred had witnessed with Arthur in his  _ own _ love life with Francis. 

Maybe that deserved some elaboration. 

Ya see, Arthur had a pretty dismal, hesitant, careful, and almost strict view on love. Arthur, as it turned out, had been with Francis for  _ so long _ and never even exchanged an ‘ _ I love you _ ’ until just recently. To Arthur, it wasn’t something he wanted to hear because in all likelihood, it would change. It wouldn’t be true anymore. He didn’t want it to become a lie, in a way. To Arthur, that was one of the most important things he would ever hear. That much, at least, had rubbed off on Alfred.  

But Arthur saw it as something that should be set in stone, forever. Because he couldn’t bear it any way else. Arthur saw a declaration of love as a promise  _ that should not _ be broken except for reasons inescapable, but he adamantly didn’t want to go through those ‘inescapable reasons’, so he didn’t want to hear it. Didn’t want to say it. Didn’t want to touch the notion. Because that was too big a thing to say… and too big a thing to lose in the long run.  

It was respectable, but Alfred  _ did _ see it a bit differently. Love was not something to be taken lightly. A declaration of love was a big friggin’ deal and was not something to be thrown about willy nilly  _ especially _ if you didn’t  _ really _ mean it… But if you did love someone, really loved someone, then shouldn’t it be perfectly fine to tell them? Even if it could change. Even if falling out of love was a possibility. Even if you’d fallen in love too fast. Whatever might make it  _ not _ set in stone… If you love someone, you should tell them. If you wanted to never stop saying it, you should be able do that. If you wanted to show them, you should show them. What should matter is that, at that moment, you’re undeniably in love. Arthur didn’t want anything to do with it, because it could change. Alfred… Well. Alfred believed that it was  _ because it could change _ , that it was something that should  _ absolutely _ be said while it was true…

And as Kiku leaned his forehead against Alfred’s chest, he felt like his heart was going to burst. 

Alfred slid his arms around his boyfriend, hugging him close and resting a chin on the top of his head as they moved sluggishly to the melody. 

God, he was so happy. 

A loud scoff sounded from a good distance away. Alfred tried shaking it off. It probably wasn’t directed towards them… “Look at these fags! Why did I even come to this party?” Yeah that was directed towards them. 

And then Kiku was holding Alfred back from punching a dude across the face, but it wasn’t for long, because he  _ swore _ people  _ swooped in _ out of freaking  _ nowhere _ . He recognized one as Francis’ Turkish friend Sadiq Adnan, who Alfred had last seen drawing on the face of some long-haired guy in a cat shirt as he slept on a couch. The other was Carlos, a Cuban friend of Mattie’s. They were just suddenly  _ there _ and utilizing teamwork to drag this random guy outside. 

Alfred and Kiku looked at each other. Alfred shrugged. “So anyway…” he cleared his throat. “I think I’ve had my fill of dancing.” Al offered Kiku a smile. “Refreshments?” 

The two got some lemonade, sipping it against a wall for a while, but that had really soured the mood. Alfred needed some air. “Hey, Kiks? You wanna go outside?”  Kiku looked like he wanted to tackle Alfred in a kiss for the suggestion alone, so he took that as a yes…

Pro: outside was much quieter than the inside and away from the vast majority of people. 

Con: ‘fresh air’ really wasn’t an option with the smokers. 

Oh well, Alfred had been around worse. It was just Sadiq and Carlos, sharing a lighter as they lit up exchanged cancer sticks. Judging by Carlos’ split first two knuckles, the skuzz that had called him and Kiku out earlier was… taken care of. 

Kiku nodded at them politely as Alfred stared up at the stars partially hidden by the blazing neon of downtown. The two nodded back. Sadiq inclined his head at them, exhaling smoke before he spoke. “D’ you want one?” the Turk offered, holding out a pack in the direction of both of them.

“No, but thank you for your offer,” Kiku declined courteously. 

“Nah, dude. I don’t smoke. Tried it once… Yeah, it’s not for me,” Al told him. Sadiq shrugged nonchalantly. Carlos murmured something about how he was more of a cigar smoker himself. Alfred was rather caught up in a memory. What Alfred had said was mostly true, he recalled as he leaned up against the wall of the house next to his boyfriend and the smokers. It certainly wasn’t the whole story, though…

 

Alfred blamed Ivan, mostly. It’d been a couple years ago and Alfred had always felt the need to look bigger and cooler than the Russian.  _ Especially _ since Alfred liked to consider himself a greaser and Ivan could say that he  _ was _ , even without a leather jacket, he could say that and no one would question him. He was the type of greaser that could be  _ feared _ without being a typical greasy-haired, leather-wearing thug. And it  _ bugged _ Alfred to no end because no one would call  _ him _ a greaser! Even when he tried so hard to fit the image! He’d grown out his hair to the point it  _ still _ tickled the back of his neck. He’d greased it all up and back. He’d walked the walk and talked the talk and wore the leather jacket and was the little brother of a greaser and  _ people still looked at him like a kid that was trying too hard _ … And maybe he was trying too hard, BUT THAT WASN’T THE POINT. 

But anyway, Alfred wanted to be tough. If he was from the wrong side of the tracks, little bro of a greaser and carrying on the legacy, he wanted to fit the bill.  _ Ivan _ didn’t fit the bill perfectly,  _ but he was tough _ . And he was scary without even trying to be. And Alfred couldn’t stand that. So he had gotten it in his mind to find a way to  _ outdo _ Ivan Braginsky. 

And ya know what Ivan Braginsky didn’t do that most greasers did? Do ya know what Artie, your run of the mill greaser did that  _ Alfred _ didn’t? Smoked cigarettes.

Alfred had stolen one from Arthur’s pack one day along with one of his lighters. He had them all neatly tucked into his slick leather jacket and his hair all greased back and long and jeans rolled up just enough to show off his sweet kicks. He looked the part, alright. He walked right up and leaned against the building where Ivan and Yao were having lunch at a cafe outdoors. He gave them a kindhearted hello. 

And he took out that cigarette and lit it. And he stuck it in his mouth, taking a long suck on the end of it. 

Did he regret his decision? Yes he did. 

Two things happened very fast. 1. He doubled over in a coughing fit because his lungs weren’t used to these kind of things and it tasted  _ disgusting _ . 2. Wang Yao. Wang Yao happened. It was Ivan that Alfred had been focusing on,  _ but oh did Yao remind him of his presence _ . 

“WHATDOYOUTHINKYOU’REDOING, YOUNG MAN?! YOU ARE TOO  _ YOUNG _ FOR THE SMOKING!” Let the record show that Yao was much shorter than Alfred. Let it also show that Yao dragged Alfred  _ by the ear _ , ignoring his chorus of ‘ _ owowowow _ ’s for a good block. But the story didn’t end there. Oh no. 

Because Ivan Braginsky, who was trailing behind his lover and Alfred, spoke up after they’d travelled that block. “Yao, you’re hurting the poor boy,” Ivan had mused. 

“Fine, then.  _ You _ take him,” Yao had huffed, shoving Alfred not-too-gently against  _ Ivan _ . Alfred remembered laughing very nervously at this point. 

“Nah, it’s okay, big guy. Uh, he’s got me,” Alfred had tried reassuring him. Ivan’s gigantic hands locked onto Alfred’s shoulders. 

“ _ Nonsense _ !” he sounded so happy. “I have you now.” 

So… there was that. Then…. there was Arthur when they arrived at his workplace after he had tried to bolt five separate times and cried a little. And when Yao had to tattletale on him. Al had personally never seen anyone in a bubblegum pink uniform and hat look so utterly  _ boiling _ furious. 

“ALFRED.  _ FRANKLIN _ .  **_JONES_ ** . You did  **_WHAT_ ** ?!”

Needless to say, Alfred never tried pulling  _ that _ stunt again. 

 

“Why did you pounce on that soc like you did back there?” Kiku asked Sadiq and Carlos, his voice snapping Alfred to attention. Sadiq and Carlos each proceeded to do their own little show of shrugging it off and ‘ _ meh it was nothing; just trying to be a good person _ ’ before they cut it out. 

“Aww, I dunno,  _ mi amigo _ ,” Carlos sighed to Kiku. “I saw a shitty person doing a shitty thing, I guess, and, ah, pounded my persuasion not to do that into him,” he smiled sheepishly. “Was gonna anyways, but at first glance when I turned around, I thought  _ you _ ,” he gave a nod to Alfred. “were my good friend Matthew Williams. You’re not. But nobody deserves treatment like that, now do they?” Carlos grinned, cigarette hanging out one corner of his mouth, like that of a big brother before he puts his sibling in a headlock and runs his knuckles against their scalp until it burns in order to show affection. He was a very huggable sort of guy, the kind that would smell nice like sweet fruits and cigars, but might accidentally squeeze too hard if you did hug him. All three of them looked to Sadiq for  _ his _ answer. Sadiq was… dressed for a party? He was wearing a white mask, anyway. Not entirely sure why, but there you go. 

Sadiq looked around at the three of them, chewing slightly on his cigarette. He shrugged again, grinning and ruffling Al’s hair. “I was just lookin’ out for my boy Alec!” 

“It’s Alfred.”

“I was just lookin’ out for my boy Alfred!”

Carlos huffed, shaking his head at him. Sadiq blew a smoke ring in the Cuban’s direction as if it was the adult version of sticking out a tongue. 

“ _ Sure _ . I’m sure it was  _ just _ about looking out for ‘Alec’,” Carlos smirked knowingly. 

“You insinuating something, Carly?” he sounded almost bored. Carlos chuckled, nudging the Turk with his elbow. 

“Couldn’t have anything to do with that-- what was ‘is name? Hercules?” Carlos was grinning now. He obviously knew something. And Sadiq didn’t seem ecstatic about it as he grumbled profanities in the Cuban’s direction half-heartedly, smoking down his cigarette and looking like he was considering another. All eyes were on him still. Sadiq waved them away. 

“ _ Everyone _ knows I don’t give a  _ damn _ about  _ Heracles _ . The lazy bastard can die snoozing in the streets for all I care. So shut your mouth.”

“‘Everyone’ knows that, you say?”

“Yeah. So  _ hush your trap _ about him, will you?!” Sadiq tried for contempt in his tone, but it didn’t hide the want to change the subject. 

“Hercules doesn’t seem like too bad a guy…”

“ _ Heracles Karpusi _ is a BRAT.”

“You two seem to have very… strong… emotions about each other...”

“Carlos, I will disembowel you where you stand.” Carlos put his hands up innocently, chuckling some more, still with that look like a mom that was teasing her kid about their crush. Sadiq turned to Al. “Look, kid, I helped whoop some guy’s ass ‘cause I thought that guy was talking to  _ me _ . Happy?” 

“Hey, man, it’s cool. Thanks for doing that. And, uh… I think we’re gonna… go back inside…?” Alfred looked to Kiku for confirmation that, yes, that was a plan they both wished to follow through with. Kiku nodded. Al high-tailed it away from the awkwardness  _ really pretty fast _ . 

So back inside they went without a clear goal in mind besides more or less avoiding the main, sweaty throng of people. 

Alfred and Kiku walked close together, often brushing shoulders, but not daring enough to reach out just a tad more and take the other’s hand. The living room was out of question for a bit through some sort of unspoken agreement between them, but that was fine! ‘Cause Francis had a big house and there was always the  _ parlor _ . It wasn’t  _ nearly _ as full to bursting with people and body heat and alcohol. 

It  _ was _ occupied, though. There was a spiffily dressed soc complete with a frilly cravat perched at the grand piano Francis had, mostly for display purposes. The guy looked something like a runaway or misplaced nobleman, more interested in the sheet music and his fingers gracefully dancing across the ivory keys than the small hoard of ladies fawning over him, batting their eyelashes and twirling their hair. There was a blond guy that didn’t seem too keen on being at the party, but he seemed pretty interested in pretending to be disinterested in watching the musician as well as he leaned against a wall playing with a Swiss army knife that successfully dissuaded people from approaching. 

Alfred ignored all of them, turning to smile at Kiku who was trailing behind him. Kiku smiled back carefully. The American hopped onto the loveseat adjacent to the piano dude and his audience, patting the spot beside him happily for Kiku. The Jap sat next to him, leaning inconspicuously against Al’s arm. They sat there in the kind-of peace and the sound of piano playing, just being with each other. It was kind of nice to simply take that sort of break from their partying experience. And Al had to hand it to the asshole that seemed to have showed up at the party to play piano for the ladies, he played some  _ mean _ classical music…

(Although, Alfred had to eat those words because the pianist at one point sighed, twisted around and looked directly at the blond who was caught in the act of watching. “BASCH ZWINGLI,” said Cravat Soc. “Don’t just stand there gawking. Come here.” And then Cravat Soc proceeded to scoot over to make room for ‘Basch’  and guided the blushing greaser’s hands to teach him a few measures of Mozart until the dude was able to nervously excuse himself by offering to get the soc a drink. So… Perhaps he was the asshole that seemed to have showed up at the party to play piano for the gentlemen.)

However, despite the quiet time with Kiku, the piano playing, and the homoromantic subtext, Al was about ready to get his party back on. He was there to dance and rock out and maybe scandalously kiss his boyfriend, not to sit on the parlor loveseat. “Hey, baby?” Al  _ finally _ entwined their hands between them, stroking a thumb over the back of Kiku’s knuckles. Kiku looked over to him politely. “Wanna go back out and dance?” Kiku shrugged a little, offering a tiny smile his way. 

“Perhaps,” was his answer. So maybe not dancing, exactly. Alfred stood, helping his significant other to his feet. 

And so, together they moved back towards the main action, Alfred leading the way. It was odd how everything seemed almost surreal outside of the main room. All else was quieter, calmer, almost in a dreamlike slow motion compared to the living room. 

The closer you got, the louder the music became, the more the ruckus of people grew, the more your heart rate increased with the crowd’s shared excitement. You could  _ feel _ the heat from the sweaty, moving bodies freaking  _ emanating _ from the place. Alfred loved it. This was what Artie had been sheltering him from? It wasn’t too bad. There were the usual sludge bags, but they managed to show up in every decent-sized gathering of humans, so that could be ignored. 

However, Alfred  _ did _ notice that Kiku seemed to have a different angle of approaching the situation than him. The shorter boy tended to linger behind Al closely at all costs, using him as a sort of bodily shield from both the actual, physical collisions with people and the whole social interaction thing. It wasn’t his boyfriend’s forte, but he never complained. 

Walking back in, it was immediately clear everyone was drunker than before, which was to be expected. Alfred was bouncing some already. Oh, he was  _ so  _ ready for more of this whole partying thing. ‘Good Time With the Boyfriend’ Take 2. Lights, camera, action. 

Alfred walked right on in, grinning ecstatically back at Kiku. Kiku smiled back in assurance that he was right behind him. The crowd thickened the more they walked, all of them moving along passionately with the rhythm and smelling of their choice of poison. Kiku pressed closer the more Alfred bravely delved into the horde, the Jap eventually reaching out to him so as not to get lost and hooking two fingers in the American’s belt loop. 

They wandered on like that, Alfred curiously exploring what seemed to be different levels of people. There were those that preferred a little space towards the back, where the people were more dispersed and then there were those (who seemed the most enthusiastic and intoxicated partygoers) that made the  _ middle _ portion the  _ most _ densely pact bit. 

Al thought it was pretty cool, just enjoying himself being surrounded by the people and the  _ atmosphere _ of it all. Alfred definitely wasn’t one to be called upon for atmosphere reading, but this whole group mentality thing was kinda hard to ignore. 

So was it  _ really _ his fault that he started to take quite a bit more notice in Kiku’s fingers holding to his belt loop like a lifeline, or to just be distracted by  _ Kiku _ looking more rumpled and disheveled than usual (as the poor guy was practically being dragged through a multitude of people)? They weren’t up to much right then, just wandering around, but they  _ could _ get up to some mischief. They very  _ well _ could. 

Alfred managed to pull them out of what he was now fondly referring to as ‘the hoard’ alive, the two escaping to some elbow room along the wall towards the back. 

Al leaned back against the wall some with a small, content sigh. The two stood there, observing silently, the quiet between them begging to be filled. Alfred was still all excited, a coiled spring of energy. 

And now they were  _ kind of _ alone. Ignored and not surrounded on all sides by bystanders, at least. 

Kiku was relaxing marginally at his side, the Jap leaning toward him and resting against his arm. He reeled Alfred in closer by the fingers still on one of his back belt loops. Al grinned down at the smaller (but older) teenager, sliding his own arm around his boyfriend’s waist, a hand lightly on his hip and pressing him to Alfred’s side. 

They hung out there for a good amount of time; a couple songs, anyway. It was enough time for Kiku to tilt his head against Alfred’s arm like the precious human being he was… And more than enough for Al to become friggin’  _ hyperaware _ of his boyfriend’s slim fingers absently playing with the belt loop he had yet to release. 

Plucking, tugging lightly, twisting it around his finger as if he was daydreaming about pulling those jeans  _ off _ in another room as he stared with a closed expression towards the rest of the room. 

It was probably just Alfred’s wishful thinking getting the best of him; Kiku very well might be calculating how much longer they would possibly spend at Francis’ party before he could retire to his futon… But still…

Alfred leaned down to capture Kiku’s lips in a brief but passionate kiss. Kiku reeled a bit in surprise, one of his hands balling in Al’s shirt to steady himself while the other that’d been playing with his belt loop flattened itself barely above Alfred’s back pocket. Kiku looked a little dazed and a little surprised and a little red in the face… But he most certainly didn’t pull away, meeting Alfred’s next smooch halfway. 

They were towards the back in the shadows, no one was paying them a lick of attention, and Alfred had his boyfriend’s hand pretty much on his ass. Al kissed him again and maybe 2 or 6 times more after that before he laid his hand over the one of Kiku’s that wasn’t on his shirt. Kiku looked at him with a guarded, but undeniably excitable expression. Alfred gave him a crooked grin. “Nah, don’t be shy, lollipop,” he murmured as the two shared the heated air between them, guiding Kiku’s hand. Al arched slightly at Kiku’s palm in his back jeans pocket. 

Alfred rested his weight on the wall beside him, turned sideways and mostly obscuring Kiku from the rest of the crowd as they kissed long and lazily… 

The rest of the crowd… 

Oh darn. They weren’t actually alone. Honestly, Al might’ve realized it, but he really didn’t care ‘cause he was rather enjoying his current position with Kiku… But Kiku was classier than that, unfortunately enough for Alfred’s hope of his boyfriend enjoying himself and grabbing himself a handful of a big American butt. Kiku removed himself from Alfred, clearing his throat and taking a step back. Al would’ve whined and protested, but he was probably right… There were designated makeout rooms for a reason… 

Kiku flashed him a tiny, sly smirk. The bastard could read a mood like nobody’s business. And oh how Alfred adored his lil psychic. 

“Ya know, living here and all, I can get you some VIP service. I think Francis has some fancy bubble water if you’re interested…?” Alfred told him. “Then maybe we can get out of this crowd, yeah? ‘S too stuffy in here.” Kiku clasped his hands behind his back, nodding as if they were discussing business terms. 

“That sounds… very agreeable,” the Jap’s smile widened in a way that was barely noticeable. 

“Right this way, then, Mr. Kiku,” Alfred played along, gesturing grandly. So, Francis’ weird French sparkling water and they could retreat to somewhere where they could pick up where they left off. Sounded like a good plan! But then...

Problem: kitchen wasn’t empty when they showed up. 

Francis, Yao, and Sadiq were all laughing along good-naturedly, obviously sharing playful jibes at each other’s cooking as they busied about Francis’ kitchen. It smelled of an array of  _ lovely _ food in there. It seemed the trio of men, when combined with a stocked kitchen and a decent amount of alcohol, had a tendency to end up making gourmet-level food dishes during a house party. Hence, Sadiq, Yao, and Francis preparing baklava, noodles, and crepes between sips of alcohol, sporting constructive criticism, and snarky comments shared between friends. That, along with Yao smacking anyone with a spoon that dared sample his dish without asking. Then there was Sadiq loudly boasting about how  _ toootally _ great his baklava was coming over the sound of Francis gushing over the beauty of his French breakfast food. Then there was Sadiq and Francis’ bantering back and forth about this whole ‘beauty’ thing… which spiraled downwards quickly in increasingly naughty innuendos aimed jokingly at each other while Yao scoffed in the background as he tended to his noodles. Then there was… oh  _ crap _ …

Alfred thought he sensed a dark cloud brooding over in a corner. 

…  _ Then _ there was Arthur, never the best at holding his alcohol, drunkenly stomping over and standing on tiptoes to get in Sadiq’s laughing face about these innuendos and euphemisms he was trading with  _ Arthur _ ’ _ s _ lover, Sadiq cackling at the Brit’s overreaction at the silliness, and then Arthur throwing a punch that hit the Turk square in the chest. 

Sadiq took a few quick steps back, hands in the air innocently. “Whoa, whoa,  _ woah _ ! We were only  _ joking _ ! Easy there! And watch the ring! That almost hurt!” Francis hurriedly floated over to get his Englishman’s attention back onto him with a tender kiss. 

“Ah,  _ mon amour.  _ You know my heart belongs only to you. How jealous you get in this state,” Francis mused, wiggling his eyebrows teasingly, swallowing Arthur’s indignant protests to it being called ‘ _ jealousy _ ’ with another deep kiss that Yao ended up smacking him on the back of the head scoldingly and accusing him of impolite indecency. 

Hmm. Weird. When did Arthur get a ring? Alfred couldn’t ever remember him wearing one except for maybe very recently… 

Wait.

Alfred’s connecting of the puzzle pieces was interrupted by Arthur stumbling away from Francis… Only to spot Alfred and, consequently, Kiku too. Oh no. Oh no that was not good at all.

Arthur blinked at the two of them standing next to each other, mostly Alfred though, as he didn’t seem to really recognize Kiku through the drunken haze. “... Alfred?” he slurred. “Alfred! What’re you doing? I haven’t seen you all night… You were s’pposed t’ lemme meet your--” Alfred had already grabbed Kiku and the two of them dashed out into the living room. 

Arthur was following too close behind for comfort. 

Hahaha.  _ Nooope _ . Not today. 

So Alfred set out to lose him, dragging his date behind him. The two shoved their way through the hoard, sprinting out of the living room, barreling through the parlor, escaping down a hallway, and shoving as fast as humanly possible into a closet hoping not to be seen…

Problem: like the kitchen, the closet was already occupied  _ as well _ . 

Matthew and Gilbert were all over each other, hands everywhere as they made out in the hall closet. They obviously weren’t  _ quite _ prepared for a sudden interruption in the form of Alfred F. Jones and Honda Kiku crashing in and squishing them even more in the already cramped space. The two flew apart as if they could pretend they  _ hadn’t _ just been caught together exchanging an unsanitary amount of spit. 

Now, Alfred would’ve  _ loved _ to interrogate the living heck out of Gilbert Beilschmidt, tease his brother, or get  _ out _ of the situation and leave them  _ be _ … but there was a possibility Arthur was nearby, so Alfred had to shush them instead… So there they were. The four of them.  _ Veeery _ uncomfortably piled in together in a random closet… And  _ wow _ Alfred wished it was easier to hide an awkward makeout boner in close quarters considering this was  _ his brother and Gilbert Beilschmidt _ ...

Alfred wasn’t entirely sure  _ how _ long they had to stay like that before he was willing to bet Arthur wouldn’t be lurking directly outside… Except that it was longer than  _ any _ of them would have liked… But  _ finally _ , Al cracked open the door, looked both ways, determined it clear, and got out  _ really fast _ . “What  _ gives _ , Alfred?” Gilbert huffed at him. Alfred waved him off. 

“Sorry, but my big bro almost caught Kiku and I together… Speaking of brothers… _how long has_ _this been going on with you two_?!” Matthew was blushing too hard to form a coherent sentence, gesturing uselessly behind the Prussian. Gilbert gave him an odd look.

“Did you not  _ infer _ this?” Gil looked honestly confused. 

“... I’m not too good at this whole ‘inferring’ thing…”

“ _ Ja _ , I can tell… So…”

“So what?”

“... Is that all?”

“Yeah that’s about it. Be good to him. I don’t wanna have to beat you into the ground, Gil.”

“Noted, Al.” And with that, he politely closed the closet door behind them as the greaser returned to his soc. Alfred and Kiku stood looking between each other and that door for a good few seconds… Then, Gilbert’s voice could be heard purring, “Now… Where were we, Birdie?” followed closely by the dull thud of someone being pushed gently against a wall and Alfred and Kiku decided simultaneously to split. 

And split they did… but not back to the main party. Alfred had taken Kiku’s hand again, back there in the hallways where the people were scarce. 

In the relative quiet there, Alfred hip-bumped his boyfriend almost into the wall to show affection. Kiku tried for a stern look… and failed, because they were both grinning too wide.  

Alfred led Kiku down the halls and to the back, narrower staircase. He kissed the top of his boyfriend’s head as he started climbing. Bonuses of living in the house where the party was located: you can escape somewhere a bit more private than the assigned makeout rooms downstairs. 

Alfred took Kiku to his bedroom, gently closing the door behind the two of them. 


	24. Interrupted

Alfred ran, jumped, and flopped down on his bed, vigorously patting the spot beside him for Kiku as he sat up like an excited puppy. Kiku was loads more reserved and calm. He walked over tantalizing slow, slipping off his sensible shoes before climbing up to sit politely next to Alfred. 

Kiku looked at him lovingly, smoothing hair behind Alfred’s ear before leaning in for a slow, innocent kiss that had the American melting. 

Al kissed him right back enthusiastically. They both had to come up for breath eventually, though. “You’re beautiful,” was what fell out of Alfred’s mouth of its own volition.  Kiku leaned into his side comfortably, looping his arms around Al’s neck. Alfred touched his forehead to Kiku’s, not breaking eye contact with the cutie before him. 

Kiku had the nicest eyes. 

“Thank you, Alfred,” Kiku replied quietly, just between the two of them, and tenderly closed the distance between their lips once more. Alfred sighed into the kiss. Kiku’s soft lips pressed so perfectly to Al’s. None of it felt remotely connected to reality. 

Nah, reality was ghosts of smiles over at each other at school. Reality was daring to hold pinkies on a date with his boyfriend at a movie theater. Reality was the good days hanging out at Kiku’s house doing absolutely nothing but reading manga and talking the day away. Reality was the bad days feeling like he would never be able to give Kiku the sort of love he deserved, looking about at all of the couples that could so freely express their affections. 

This? Kiku’s lips moving gently against his alone in Alfred’s bedroom? Couldn’t be. 

But that was the best part: it  _ was _ . 

Alfred held him close, arms around Kiku’s waist as he kissed him again with renewed vigor. He could feel his boyfriend smile at the enthusiasm as Al nipped lightly at his bottom lip. Cue Kiku readjusting his hands to get a better hold on him, his palms pressed to Al’s sides/upper ribcage. 

And it  _ tickled _ . Alfred let out an involuntarily bark of laughter, squirming away but also crushing Kiku to him as he fell backwards. Kiku made a surprised noise at Alfred’s sudden tip backwards and subsequent hauling Kiku on top of him as the American laid back on his pillows. They stayed like that, nose-to-nose, until Kiku pecked him on the lips once more, neither complaining about the unexpected change in position… Alfred dragged the Japanese boy down into a pressing, fervent kiss as they shifted a tad to get a little more comfy, as they might be there a while. 

Al pulled away briefly, only to take a pause to sweetly kiss Kiku’s forehead. Kiku smiled unabashedly at him, dipping down to nuzzle him in an Eskimo kiss that was so disgustingly adorable it had Alfred’s heart  _ aching _ . Alfred reached for Kiku’s hand, entwining their fingers as well as their legs, marvelling at the size difference as always. Kiku gave his hand a loving squeeze, hovering over him on his forearms to kiss him long and deep. 

Alfred’s head was swimming in one of the most glorious ways by the time they came up for air, Kiku already sucking the blonde's tongue back into his mouth as they gasped like drowning men before so willingly sinking back into their kiss. The only sound was of their kissing, their breaths of ever important O 2 , and the bass from the party downstairs. Not too much of that registered because it was all just  _ Kiku _ to Alfred. Him and Kiku together.

“So lovely,” Alfred managed when they parted briefly. Al caught Kiku’s eye roll before he shut his silly talk up with another kiss. “No seriously! You’re gorgeous,” Alfred persisted. Kiku raised an eyebrow at him, shaking his head teasingly. 

“Yes, yes. I’m pretty,” Kiku sighed with a smirk. 

“Ooh, was that sass there, Mr. Honda?” 

“Mm…” Kiku hummed absently as they shared another kiss, hands wound tightly to the side. “Perhaps,” he admitted, then swallowing any clever retorts Alfred might have had. However, he failed to remember that there was hardly a thing he could do that would stop him from babbling on. 

“And did I mention that everything about you is totally wicked  _ nice _ ?”

“Oh really?”

“And how far we’ve come? Seriously, Kiks.” Alfred cupped his love’s neck, caressing his cheek with the back of his hand. “I never thought I’d get this far. You had so many walls up around you. You didn’t even like to be touched… I mean, I was totally fine with that and all, because it was you and I respected that because hey we’re all different! That’s cool! And I just wanted you to be comfortable, dude! And then there was  _ me _ hiding from feelings at all costs.  _ Pssh _ ! I thought a  _ girlfriend _ would fix everything wonky about me. And now look at me,” he wiggled his eyebrows at this point in his rambling, “in bed with an older man. How scandalous of the both of us.” Kiku scoffed, smacking his chest at the double meaning. 

“I’m not  _ that _ much older than you, Alfred,” he said, blushing. 

“Nah, you’re ancient,” Al said just to be a nuisance. 

“Alfred, I could leave right now.”

“Aww, but you  _ wouldn’t _ !” Alfred pouted. Kiku’s lips quirked up in a smile. 

“You are right… I am far too busy now,” he agreed, kissing his boyfriend firmly. It was back to getting lost in him. Alfred ran his hands up and down Kiku’s back lackadaisically, feeling the curves of him as they made out. 

The tips of his fingers brushed purely by accident against the waistband of his boyfriend’s jeans and suddenly it was deja vu, but this time switched around… Kiku’s hand had been in  _ Alfred’s _ back pocket, but now Alfred could… The blond felt himself blushing up a storm at the mere idea. No. No, it wouldn’t be appreciated. No, Kiku probably wouldn’t like that  _ at all _ . And what else could he do? Come up for air and ask if he could touch Kiku’s butt through his pants? That was stupid. It’d be better switched around because Kiku  _ knew _ that  _ Alfred _ was perfectly cool about it. He wasn’t gonna ask. Not a chance… Well, maybe a little bit of a chance, ‘cause this was a very  _ nice _ butt being discussed here--

“Is there something on your mind?” Kiku asked him, interrupting his train of thought. 

“Wha’?”

“Your mind is not fully on the task at hand… You’re lingering here,” Kiku pointed out, reaching behind him to lightly stroke at Alfred’s wrist where he  _ was _ lingering on the lower bit of his lower back. It was impossible to hide Alfred’s blush at this point… and also impossible to meet Kiku’s eyes when there was a ‘can I touch your butt?’ on the tip of his tongue. 

The silence was all the confirmation that Kiku needed. 

“Alfred, for goodness sake. Do you need to be told in explicit wording what exactly you can and cannot do with me every step of the way?” he sighed in exasperation.

“Yes.”

“Alfred.”

“Yes?”

“Put your hands on me. It’s alright.” Alfred’s heart throbbed painfully in his chest because  _ wow _ his boyfriend was amazing. Al brought a hand up to run his fingers delicately along his boyfriend’s jaw line, closing his eyes as they kissed once more, the American’s other hand daring further south and slipping into Kiku’s backpocket. 

Alfred was generally quite enjoying the situation. What, with his shoulders being pressed into his bed with his boyfriend’s tongue tracing every inch of his mouth with an intensity that was never seen in him anywhere but in private. Not to mention having a rather pleasant new handhold, drawing out little gasps from Kiku’s mouth if he squeezed. 

The two moved together, a mess of blushing and tongues, Al’s hand kneading at Kiku’s backside through the coarse texture of his jeans, Kiku’s fist knotted in Al’s blond hair for easier manipulation of his head. Each tug of hair, each squeeze of the other’s body having the both of them short of breath and kissing each other hard. At some point, one of Alfred’s long legs had come to wrap around Kiku, the other bent casually and spread enough to accommodate for the boy on top of him. 

So it was about at this point as they were making out, the two subconsciously grinding against each other as they seeked some form of  _ friction _ between their bodies, Alfred’s hand on Kiku’s ass, Kiku holding him and kissing him like there was no tomorrow… It was about this point that the door opened. 

And all parties involved froze.

Then, it was as if a switch was flipped. Kiku flew off of him, Alfred scrunching in on himself innocently as if the two of them  _ hadn’t _ been up to anything, and the couple faced who was at the door with an anxious sort of tension and then… 

Francis.

It was just Francis… and friend… What was his name? Antonio. The chef dude from the cafe on his and Kiku’s first ‘date’ that Gilbert put together. The both of them wielded cameras. Neither had gotten the chance to use them. Francis stood there in the doorway, an amused, fatherly sort of smile on his face. “Ah. There  _ you _ are, Alfred,” he mused. “Hello to you once again, Kiku.” Francis nodded to Kiku, who nodded back in polite acknowledgement. “Sorry for disturbing,” he dropped one eye in a wink at the two of them. “Are you boys covered? Do you need anything? Protection? Lubrication?”

“ _ Francis _ !” Alfred squawked indignantly. Francis put his hands up, humoring him. 

“Alright, alright. I will leave you to it, then. I was simply looking for our dear friend Gilbert… Have you seen him?” said Francis. Alfred raised an eyebrow. 

“Oh, Gilbert? Yeah, he’s in the hall closet downstairs with his tongue down Mattie’s throat,” Alfred informed him.

“He  _ WHAT _ ?!”

Alfred laughed nervously. Maybe Francis didn’t quite know about them being together then… “Uh… Yeeeah... You didn’t hear it from me.” And then Francis and Antonio were off like a shot, hurrying downstairs to see if it was true for themselves. They shut the door behind them. 

Alfred turned back to Kiku hesitantly. The poor guy. He was still sitting tensely with a hand over his heart looking as if he’d seen a ghost… but he was also mortified, so sorta like a pretty lady ghost had caught him skinny dipping or something. Yeah. That was a viable comparison. 

Al smiled over at him, covering his slender hand with his own. Kiku slowly moved to hold his hand back, leaning back against his warmth, Kiku melting against his chest as he took his time to relax again. Alfred held him, hugging him from behind. He kissed the top of the Kiku’s head. Beautiful. Kiku let out a breath of air after a moment or two and turned to recapture Alfred’s lips. 

It was gentle kissing now, the worry that there might be another interruption a nag in the mind, but that too dissolved sooner or later. It was lazier, the heat of the previous moment forgotten in the silliness of happenstance. Alfred wound his arms around Kiku, kissing him upside-down as Kiku laid against him and Al ducked to reach him. Kiku nipped at Al’s already kiss-swollen bottom lip, coaxing a smile out of both of them. 

Alfred took the liberty of resituating them. The blond laid down too, rolling Kiku over so that they were face to face on their sides, lips reconnecting of their own accord. They kissed like that, long and lazy and deeply, with Alfred’s mouth sliding so perfectly against Kiku’s. It felt like his heart just might burst.

Unsaid words traced with tongues, mouthed against lips. Three words that Arthur would probably never forgive him for thinking so flippantly. It was stupid, maybe, but when was romance  _ not _ , honestly? Foolish, probably; dating was a lottery. Sincere, absolutely; in that moment that Alfred spent there with Kiku and every moment before that and every moment he intended to spend afterwards… Was it understood by Honda Kiku? Who knows-- he didn’t have the guts to actually say it. 

Alfred smoothed a hand through Kiku’s dark hair, playing with the soft strands as they fell through his fingers. He probably could have fallen asleep like that in his state of utter contentment. It was an appealing thought to curl up with Kiku and drift off into dreamland… and an even  _ more _ appealing one to think that perhaps he would wake up in the morning looking into his boyfriend’s pretty face. But for now, with the party below, he kissed him senseless. 

… And naturally, right in the middle of all the lovey-dovey stuff, there was the door creaking open again. 

Annoyed, Alfred didn’t flinch away from Kiku this time, only kissing the black-haired boy a little more insistently so he wouldn’t pull away either. “Go  _ away _ , Francis,” he grumbled at the Frenchman, undoubtedly back with condoms or something else embarrassing enough to scare away his boyfriend.

Only… It wasn’t Francis at the door this time.  

“Alfred?” The voice that came from the doorway was slurred with alcohol, slow, and confused… and British. Alfred flinched away from Kiku as if the sound of his brother’s voice burned him. There the couple was, the two of them, Alfred and Kiku, caught red-handed and gaping at Arthur like deer caught in headlights. 

Arthur spluttered a bit, blinking and squinting at them and still trying to make sense of the situation before him… He could have taken all the time in the world; Alfred and Kiku were frozen to the spot. Arthur made a move before either of  _ them _ did. 

He took a step forward. He took a deep breath. 

“That’s the boy from the rumble…” Arthur quietly managed to recall, his eyes flicking between the two. “You… I remember you… Ya had a bat? An’ ya ran off after  _ that _ lad with it…?” Arthur was pointing now like he was accusing Alfred of mutiny. “What did you…? What were you…? It was Beilschmidt, Beilschmidt’s second in command, and  _ him _ versus  _ us _ ! And now…?!” 

Alfred slid off the bed and Kiku followed his lead. The American held up his hands, taking a couple diffident steps in the direction of his brother in the doorway. “Hey now,” Alfred started soothingly. “Artie,” he said. “My big bro,” he added for good measure. “I can explain! We can totally talk this out!” Alfred assured reasonably. Arthur was waiting, arms crossed and very,  _ very _ visibly steaming. Alfred opened his mouth to begin his tale, taking Kiku’s hand as he did to show what a lovely unified force they were.

And then he sprinted past Artie and out the door, Kiku right behind.

The two of them shot down the hallway, flew downstairs, bolted past Sadiq (who seemed rather abashed at being caught kissing Heracles Karpusi against a wall by two teens sprinting through a previously unoccupied area), and made it safely out the door without further interruptions.

Alfred and Kiku made it down the street before slowing to a walk. Alfred wheezed out a loud laugh into the crisp, cold night, only  _ minorly _ completely hysterical at how much  _ trouble _ he was going to be in. Kiku looked over at him questioningly. Al shook his head, resisting the urge to double over and catch his breath. “I can’t believe we just did that,” Al told his boyfriend.

“... Yes, I don’t think your brother was entirely pleased with the situation,” Kiku speculated helpfully. Alfred bobbed his head in a nod. 

“Nope, he’s definitely pissed,” Alfred agreed. 

“You, Mr. Jones, are in a world of trouble.”

“Yep. Doomed. Absolutely,” Alfred grinned. 

“Perhaps it would be best if you went back now…? Running off like this will likely only  _ hurt _ your case and not help it.”

“Nah.”

“Oh… Okay then.” They walked along down the dark road, neither of them entirely sure where they were even  _ going _ . It was a chilly night, and Alfred was rather enjoying it. Plus, the whole bit about getting to share it with Kiku put an extra giddy spring to his step. Oh, he was going to be grounded for life, probably. Maybe even told he couldn’t see Kiku again because of some greaser junk and their love would be a forbidden one. Maybe Alfred would have to sneak out in the dead of night like some romance novel to see his love’s pretty face. Maybe Artie would just get over it. Who knew? They’d cross that bridge when they came to it, but for now, they still had each other and that was pretty great. 

Kiku shivered in the cold, failing to hide it. Alfred immediately stripped out of his aviator’s jacket and wrapped it around the smaller teenager’s shoulders. They walked on in silence. The trip to Kiku’s house was long, the two of them walking as close together as possible as if they could effectively share body heat through the brushing of their shoulders. 

But it didn’t matter. 

He got to talk to Kiku the whole way there-- the darkness, chill of the night, and the rebellion of their little stroll was keeping his heart pounding. Plus, Kiku looked so darn cute in his jacket. 

They  _ did _ get there eventually, though. 

And aside from Alfred having pretty thoroughly turned into a greaser-sicle without his jacket, it was pretty cool. What, with all the rebellion and forbidden aspects to it AND BEING ABLE TO SHARE IT ALL WITH KIKU. He should do this more often. Except not because he was likely going to be grounded for a bajillion years after this little jaunt of theirs. 

Kiku unlocked his door, pulling Alfred just inside the doorway and into the relative warmth of his small house he once shared with Yao. “So… what are you going to do now?” Kiku asked into the quiet between them. 

“Good question,” Al mused. Well… He hadn’t actually thought that far. “Right now,” he decided “I’m gonna kiss you,” he informed Kiku before leaning in for a lingering peck on the lips.

“Yes, and after?” Kiku asked, tugging the American back for one more taste. 

“I guess… I’m gonna go home… I mean, Artie’ll be pissed, but… Well, what else do I do?” Kiku shrugged awkwardly in response.

“It is very late,” Kiku fretted. “And cold outside. It is an awfully long walk--” Kiku cut himself off looking at Alfred’s large grin spreading across his face. “What?” the black-haired boy questioned defensively. 

“What  _ else _ would you suggest I do, Kiks?”


	25. Together

Alfred flopped excitably down on what would be his bed for the night. Kiku had one of those nifty couches that folded down into a bed. And guess where Alfred was going to spend the night. Yup. A night of teenage rebellion, sleeping over at his boyfriend’s place.

 _Well_ , it wasn’t _that_ bad. Like, he and Kiku were going to be good little children and sleep in completely separate rooms and then Alfred would go home in the morning. Kiku was really only looking out for him, not wanting to risk the trek all the way back in the cold, dark night. Alfred had just very readily agreed. It was only _responsible_ of him to not try to make the trip back home, right? A perfectly reasonable excuse.

Artie was still going to skin him alive, though. At this point it was also kind of ‘go big or go home’, so Alfred decided to… not go home… and face the consequences in the morning.  

Alfred snuggled down into the blanket that Kiku had given him. The blanket smelled like Kiku; he’d pulled it right from his own cocoon of blankets he slept with. Kiku smiled at him, running a hand through his blond hair as he sat on the edge of the fold-out bed. “You could kiss me, ya know,” Alfred felt the need to throw out there. “I mean, we’ve kinda got a tradition goin’ here with this couch,” he reminded his boyfriend helpfully. “Like, _that one time_ we found ourselves here, for the sake of example, we were makin’ out and you gave me this sexy lap dance and--” Kiku cut him off with a gentle kiss to his mouth, a quick hint of a teasing tongue that would make Francis proud.

“Good night, Alfred,” Kiku whispered, centimeters from his face, breath ghosting over his lips. Al smirked, pretty satisfied with himself at Kiku’s little blush.

“G’night, babycakes,” _Love you_ “Sleep tight. Don’t let the bedbugs bite,” he grinned, pecking his Kiku on those pretty lips once again. “Feel free to come cuddle with me if they do,” he added for good measure.

“I will keep that in mind, my dear,” Kiku told him, rubbing their noses together in an Eskimo kiss (it was practically _their_ thing at this point) as he made Alfred’s heart want to jump out of his chest at the pet name.

And then he was gone, disappearing back into his own room with a small smile stuck on his face whether he was aware of it it or not.

 

A snoring Alfred F. Jones jolted awake with a snort, not entirely sure what had woken him up as his eyes adjusted to the blackness. Through his drowsy disorientation, memories came creeping back to tell him where he was-- his boyfriend’s. Remembering that much was enough to put a small smile on his face.

Then his eyes saw the human silhouette standing at the edge of the couch. He sat straight up in an action like a flinch. “ _Alfred_ ! _It’s me_!” Kiku whispered soothingly into the quiet. Al let himself flop back down.

“Whatcha doin’ up, baby?” Al asked sleepily rubbing at his eye. There was a pause before Kiku cleared his throat and answered bashfully.

“I… was cold…” Kiku told him. It was a lame excuse, but Al got it. He grinned tiredly, yawning as he scooted over and lifted up the blanket for him to crawl in next to him. Kiku did, tentatively, as if testing the temperature of bathwater. Alfred held him close as he snuggled into his arms; the two of them easily falling back asleep together.

 

Alfred woke up to Kiku tucked under his chin as they hugged at each other in their sleep. Kiku felt Al’s breathing pick up as he rested lightly against his chest, probably already half awake. Al looked down at him with a smile. _Man_ , that was a good sight to wake up to.

And one that was going to be so hard to leave.

Kiku’s hands which were lightly knotted in the back of Alfred’s shirt as he’d slept helped tug him up so he could kiss Alfred good morning. “Good morning, Alfred,” he said quietly, shifting to a more cozy position as they lied nose to nose. Alfred really hoped his need to brush his teeth wasn’t too dire at this point and that it did not have the potential to knock Kiku unconscious. He offered his boyfriend a happy grin nonetheless.

“Good morning, sunshine,” he said, giving Kiku an Eskimo kiss before pressing their lips together. Kiku slid a hand up his side to twist gently in his hair, making Al smile as they kissed again, a little more insistent before some tongue was added into the equation. Their mouths molded beautifully, gentle and languid in the soft light of the early morning. They lied there, kissing on their sides with Kiku leaning a tad over him for an easier angle. That was, until Alfred playfully pushed him over and climbed over _him_ , peppering his face with little kisses as Kiku giggled ( _giggled_ ) and pulled at his hair until Alfred conceded and recaptured his lips, the both of them smiling like crazy. Kiku sighed after a moment, his smile slipping by a fraction.

“You should really get home. Your brother will be worried,” Kiku reminded him, albeit regretfully. Alfred groaned. He was right, of course. That didn’t make it any less of a fun concept.

“So quick to kick me out,” Al joked, smooching his nose. Kiku rolled his eyes.

“As much as I would enjoy staying in with you today, I care about you enough to tell you that you should _really_ probably go back to your brother,” he sighed again, cupping Al’s face. Al couldn’t argue with that logic.


	26. Innocence

The certain urgency to get home did not, however, stop him from grabbing some McDonald’s on the way home. 

Alfred was really pretty happy with himself as he walked along down the road. His stomach was full of good, cheap food. He’d slept over at his boyfriend’s house and they had kissed and cuddled. Francis would probably be proud of him. That was all great. 

What  _ wasn’t _ great, though, was that his brother probably  _ wouldn’t _ be proud of him for this… at all. Alfred was going to be grounded, there was no getting around that. Maybe Francis would be there to help soften the punishment. Francis was always a fan of lovey dovey stuff; he would vouch for him and his boyfriend… 

Alfred wasn’t too worried about things as he got closer to the house. 

Then, he got there. And Arthur was waiting for him on the porch, smoking a cigarette next to an already full ashtray. 

Arthur looked up him with an unreadable expression as he approached, taking a long drag from the stick he held almost boredly between his fingers. Alfred was prepared for Arthur to just immediately start blowing up and yelling at him. He wasn’t prepared for  _ this _ reaction, so he stood there awkwardly shifting on his feet for a moment before making an attempt to slide past the Brit and into the house. “Alfred…” Arthur stopped him in his tracks with only the word. 

“Hey, bro! What’s the haps! Did you like the party last night?” Alfred asked, continuing in a rush when Arthur opened his mouth to speak. “Dude, doesn’t Francis, like, hate it when you smoke or something? Not good for ya, big bro.” A beautiful move by the American. He’d not only reminded him to think of the Frenchman but  _ also _ that he was his big brother. Familial relations usually made people  _ not _ murder you and that was a thing to strive for. “Speaking of Francis… Uh… Where is he?”

Arthur sighed out a small cloud of smoke. 

“The frog is at his  _ office _ having a meeting about his wine selection this year. He is a working citizen unlike some of us. However, given last night’s  _ interesting _ party, I’m sure he would understand me having a smoke or two in his absence,” Arthur said, his voice carefully articulated and tired-sounding. Alfred chuckled nervously, nodding at the ashtray.

“That’s more than 2 there--”

“Alfred that’s not  _ important _ ,” Arthur cut him off sharply, smashing his unfinished cancer stick into the tray. “I  _ would _ , however, be very interested in talking about my observations at the party last night. It seems you were having a  _ fun _ time with your boyfriend,” he said, his green eyes boring into him enough for him to look away. Al rubbed at his neck.

“Yeah… It was nice--”

“Nice enough to continue it as his house, am I wrong?”

“Well… I mean… We  _ did _ go back to his place--”

“And you spent the night. Did you sleep with him?”

“No! Well. Kind of? But not like you think! We just cuddled, I swear!” Alfred gushed, blushing like crazy. Arthur looked past him for a moment, thinking, as Alfred stood there with his heart pounding in his chest. 

“I see…” Arthur said finally. He looked back to his little brother almost sadly. “Alfred… You  _ do _ know who he is, don’t you?”

“H-His name is Honda Kiku. He’s Yao’s, your friend’s, little brother--”

“And,” Arthur continued for him. “He is in cahoots with Feliciano Vargas and Ludwig Beilschmidt. The best of friends, one might say quite accurately. Were you aware of this?”

“ _ Yeah _ , but--”

“You were aware of this friendship. Do you remember what happened to me? Let me rephrase this… Do you remember what they, those 3, did to me and consequently  _ you _ and  _ Francis _ and even poor little Matthew?” 

“A rumor was spread, but--”

“A rumor was spread by that group, no one of them can be assigned particular blame, and because of that rumor-- that I am a homosexual--”

“They’re not  _ wrong _ , though--” Alfred reminded him. 

“ _ True or not _ , because of it I lost my job. We lost our house. You and Matthew felt the repercussions at school… Yes, I know about the bullying; Matthew talks to Francis even if you don’t talk to me. And then Francis, the man who gives us a home and the man I fully intend to marry,” Arthur tapped the golden band on his finger that Alfred had noticed last night “ _ he _ is a rather awful sight to be behold right now thanks to those 3 now isn’t he?” 

“That wasn’t  _ really _ their fault--” 

“Indirect, yes, but it was their actions that set off the chain reaction and  _ this _ kind of thing happening is exactly what they intended. Why purposefully spread a rumor? To make a God awful mess in someone’s life… All of this taken into consideration, all of this you were well aware of… and you allow one of those men to enter your life romantically?” Arthur’s voice was colder than ice. “Have you just  _ ignored  _ all of the things happening around you and focused on ‘oh! I think this lad is rather cute’?” Well… There might be some truth to those words… He  _ had _ been pretty,  _ mostly _ caught up in Kiku lately. But that still didn’t mean  _ Kiku _ was guilty of anything. He wasn’t. 

“Okay, Artie, first of all, he  _ is _ cute. He’s adorable, actually. And I know that things kinda stink when it comes to jobs and stuff, but he makes them stink a whole lot less for me, okay?” It sounded really sappy and Alfred was  _ totally _ not close to tears because of all of this confrontation or anything, but he should be cut some slack. He just.... had some dirt in his eye or something. Even manly, cool greasers have bodily functions to flush dirt out of their eyes, you know. Arthur sighed in exasperation. 

“You are  _ literally _ missing or avoiding my point. My  _ point _ , Alfred, is that you are far too trusting of this lad. How do you know he had nothing to do with this?”

“H-He told me. He had no idea they were going to do this.”

“And that was the end of that conversation, I’m sure. You believed him at the drop of the hat, yes? It was exactly what you wanted to hear.” Yeah…

“We trust each other like that, alright?”

“How sweet,” Arthur’s facial expression didn’t change, but the eye roll was all in the tone. “I’m not saying that he’s some villain, Alfred. Don’t think that,” the Brit relented. “However, I would like you to know that he  _ is not _ innocent.”

“How?” Al countered defensively, his mind in a flurry as it tried to justify that it totally wasn’t  _ naive _ at all. “I mean, asking him and taking his word for it apparently isn’t good enough!” Arthur laced his fingers together tiredly. 

“Open your eyes and don’t be stupid, dickweed,” Arthur said matter-of-factly. Alfred rolled his eyes and turned on his heel before storming off back down the road. “Alfred! Where do you think you’re going?” Arthur yelled unhappily at his back. 

“ _ Kiku’s _ ,” Alfred spat over his shoulder, not slowing his pace for a moment. 


	27. Mistake

Kiku was  _ surprised _ , to say the least, to see Alfred back on his front doorstep so soon. He cocked an eyebrow at the American standing in front of him, waiting for an explanation. Alfred sighed, not knowing what to tell him and not knowing what to think  _ himself _ . “Heya, Kiks… I, um… I have some questions that my brother… and that I… would like answered…?” Alfred said, rubbing his neck uncomfortably. This wasn’t going to be fun. He could tell already. He couldn’t tell, however, what Kiku was thinking. His boyfriend had a guarded expression as he nodded and invited Alfred in to sit down. 

Alfred politely declined his offer of some tea. 

Kiku made some for himself nevertheless, leaving Alfred twiddling his thumbs anxiously on Kiku’s couch. Kiku came back in about 5 minutes later with a nice, hot glass of herbal tea and pulled up a chair so that they could sit facing each other. “Alfred…” Kiku started. And Alfred kind of wanted to cry. His voice was so soft and nice and full of genuine concern. He didn’t want to question his boyfriend over these things, but Arthur certainly wouldn’t let it go… And Alfred would kind of be stupid  _ not _ to ask… And Alfred wasn’t often as stupid as he acted. “What’s wrong?”

Alfred shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal… But it was, honestly. “My big bro brought it to my attention when I went home… That I don’t think I know the whole story with that rumor stuff not long back?  That caused all that junk with Artie’s job and with Francis?” Kiku wasn’t meeting his eyes. “I mean, I know that you told me that you didn’t know anything about it until it was already done but--”

“Ludwig was the one that told some coworkers of Arthur, yes… He worked alone in that.”

“Yeah! That’s what I was tryin’ to tell Artie! It wasn’t you! You’re innocent! You told me so!” Alfred laughed, mocking Arthur’s silliness. “I told him that I trusted you! I told him you didn’t lie to me!” He went to clap Kiku on the back, but Kiku shirked away. Alfred’s smile faded. Something was wrong. “Hey, babe, I wasn’t gonna hit you or anything. Sorry. Did I come on too strong there or-- Sorry I kinda forget that sometimes you’re not big on the touchy/contact stuff. I was just really happy for some further confirmation that you’re  _ not _ the bad guy here or anything--”

“Alfred, stop. No. I’m sorry. I didn’t…” Kiku trailed off before switching tactics. “I do not think that there is some ‘bad guy’ here. That is simply too broad a term.” Alfred laughed nervously.

“Dude, look, I know that Ludwig is your friend and all, but here? After what he did to my family and me? In this situation anyway, I think I’m entitled to calling him the ‘bad guy’. I mean, even if Feliciano was involved with it and even if I know that  _ he _ is, like,  _ never _ a mean dude, to me he’d still be the ‘bad guy’ too. What happened  _ really _ hurt us, you know. That was totally not an okay thing to do.” Kiku looked down, suddenly becoming very interested in his tea. Alfred cleared his throat. “But… I mean…  _ You _ … You didn’t have anything to do with it… right?” Kiku sighed deeply. 

“I… Do not think I can count myself as blameless,” Kiku stated quietly. His words seemed to echo in the silent room and in Alfred’s heart, making his blood run cold. 

“W-What do you mean?” Al cursed his voice breaking on the last word. Kiku finally looked up to meet his eyes. 

“I mean that it was originally my idea to spread a rumor, because wound to a reputation can harm far worse than a wound to the flesh, but I never meant to hurt anybody I cared about…” Kiku told him, not breaking eye contact even though, knowing Kiku, he could sense how much his confession had just broken Al’s heart.

“You only meant to hurt Artie, you mean. You didn’t care that he was a person with a job and a family and a  _ life _ . Because you guys were fighting with him. Because you’re enemies. My  _ God _ , what is this feud even  _ about _ ?! Why couldn’t giving him a bloody nose and then going home have been  _ enough _ ? What about Francis? And Mattie? What about  _ me _ ?” Al lashed out, his nastiness surprising even himself as his hurt got the better of him. He refused to take any of it back, though. 

“I did not intend for any of this to happen the way it did--”

“What did you  _ expect _ to happen, then?! If not this, then what? Did you expect  _ Artie _ to be the one beaten up in some dark alley for his sexualiy? Did you expect someone to run him out of town? Run  _ us _ out of town?”

“It was merely an idea I proposed… I was not sure if it would work or if Ludwig, Feliciano, and I would actually carry out such a thing…”

“But they  _ did _ . Did you know me when you ‘proposed’ this idea? Were we dating? Is any of this even real? Or is this, all that we have together, another way to get under my brother’s skin?” Alfred demanded to know, feeling himself close to tears that he would not,  _ could not _ shed yet. Kiku looked taken aback, his face flashing with as much hurt as Alfred felt. Al instantly wanted to take it all back. Wanted to apologize for going there. Wanted to work through this, laugh it off, get over it,  _ something _ … But he couldn’t. Not right that second, anyway. Kiku was shaking his head slowly as if he were dazed. 

“Alfred…” it was said in disbelief. “Alfred.” A plea. “No. I hardly knew you existed. We were not even friends when the subject came up. None of this was faked. None of it is fake. What I feel for you--” Alfred couldn’t take hearing this right then and made a choking noise in the back of his throat, cutting Kiku off. He found himself shaking his head before burying his head in his hands. Kiku took a shaky breath. “Alfred, I didn’t  _ do _ anything. Alfred, please, I--”

“No you didn’t,” Alfred rasped suddenly, his heart feeling numb in his chest. “You didn’t  _ do _ anything. But even if you weren’t one of the goons that carried any of it out, you were still the mastermind behind the plan,” he spat bitterly, not being able to picture anything but his big brother drinking himself sick in his stress. Alfred and Matthew alike being tormented relentlessly at school. Francis stumbling in, beaten and bloody. Arthur frantically trying to keep everything held together.

“Alfred, you stupid boy, this isn’t some Hollywood film!” Kiku countered in exasperation. Al recoiled. And Kiku softened. 

“I’m not  _ stupid _ ,” Alfred found himself defending himself like a child. Kiku reached out for him, but Alfred moved away. Kiku lowered his hand. 

“You’re not stupid. But right now you’re acting without thinking. Let me explain myself, please. Let me tell you how much I care for you and how much I care about your family and how much I regret that they--you-- were hurt by this!” Kiku was all but begging him. And oh how Alfred wanted to trust him without another question. Let Kiku hold him against his chest and talk him out of his pain. 

But he wasn’t sure if he was so willing to trust him so blindly again. Alfred hated it, but Arthur had been 100% correct about the blindness. 

Alfred bit the inside of his cheek, avoiding Kiku’s pleading eyes at all costs. “Kiku I… No.... I can’t do this… I’m sorry… No…” Alfred said slowly. Kiku stared at him, uncomprehending. 

“What? W-What does that  _ mean _ ?”

“I can’t do this, Kiku,” Alfred said, stronger this time. 

“Do  _ what _ , Alfred?”

Alfred gestured helplessly at the room around him. “ _ This _ , Kiku. Any of it.” Alfred buried his face in his hands. “I think… I think that it would be best if we took a break…” Alfred didn’t want to say ‘break up’. That was too permanent… Not that he could really see any reconciliation from  _ this _ , though. Kiku was staring at him dumbfounded. 

“Alfred Jones, we have hit merely a minor bump in the road--”

“ _ Minor _ ?!”

“And you want to break up?!” Kiku finished, talking over Alfred. “I had no idea what we had between us was so superficial and fickle!” He gave a mocking, incredulous bow. “ _ Forgive me _ ,” he bit harshly “I would not make the  _ mistake _ again.”

“Oh so now  _ you’re _ mad at  _ me _ ?”

“We are  _ stronger _ than this, Alfred. We can make it through this  _ together _ and you are not even willing to  _ try _ ?”

Alfred threw his hands up in the air, laughing hysterically. “I don’t think you’re quite getting how serious this is…? And how serious it is that all of it happened  _ because of your actions… _ ? I can’t just  _ let these facts go _ ! I care for you, Kiku. Deeply. But this is my  _ family _ . My family was nearly torn apart because of your actions. My family was hurt and continues to  _ be _ hurt because of your actions. Or your ‘plan’, whatever; honestly it’s all the same to me. It was your idea, the deed was done, you say you regret it, but you never  _ told me _ . How can I believe that? You should have confessed to me waaaaay before now.” Alfred gritted his teeth hard after he was through with his monologue. Kiku stared at him evenly, not letting anything of what he was feeling show in his expression. And that hurt even worse.

“I am sorry,” Kiku told him quietly. Al looked away once more. 

“Me too, but it doesn’t fix anything, does it?”

“I suppose… that it does not…” Kiku said, even quieter. Alfred set his jaw. 

“I should go,” he hated that his voice cracked. He hated even more that he couldn’t tell whether or not Kiku was affected at all by this. Al would like to think he would be. Kiku’s words said that he  _ should _ have been feeling everything Alfred was… But… Was he?

It didn’t matter either way; Alfred was already out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've passed 100,000 words, guys! Feel free to leave kudos, comments, criticism, whatever!


	28. Pasta and Cats

It ended, as many great things do, as a fight followed by an overabundance of silence.

Peace was good, Kiku decided. Pure and utter silence, however, he could hardly stand. Kiku did not tell anyone what had transpired between himself and Alfred F. Jones. He couldn’t. Nevertheless, they found out. 

They found out because Kiku did not want to answer their calls or contact his friends and the owners of the stores he frequented noted that the ‘local Jap’ hadn’t come in as he usually did. 

Feliciano had let himself in after a while. 

Kiku was no longer at home. He had not been to his home in a couple days now, but they did not want him to leave. They wanted to make sure that he was alright. None of them had ever seen Kiku  _ sad _ before and to them such an emotion was unacceptable, so they were set on fixing his ‘broken heart’, as they called it. It was an apt description, Kiku supposed. It certainly mirrored the feeling. 

A community of friends would help him through this, they told him. Well, Kiku had to admit it was better than suffocating in silence, alone, and wondering if dialing that familiar phone number into his telephone would yield any results. Kiku had not called  _ him _ and  _ he _ had not called Kiku. Kiku had stayed at home, staring at the phone, wondering if he would call, agonizing over whether Kiku should be the one to call, hanging up on anybody that was not  _ him _ , ignoring knocks at the door, until finally Feliciano used the key. Being with friends would help him, they said.

There he lay, on the couch of Heracles Karpusi. Feliciano Vargas was singing in the kitchen in smooth Italian as he cooked another round of pasta. Feliciano was going to make him fat off of the stuff, but the Italian was sure of his methods. If anything could heal a broken heart, Feliciano liked to say, it was friendship and good food. 

Kitties didn’t hurt either, Heracles would add. No one could disagree with that. Heracles was a right proper crazy cat person, but the Greek loved every last member of his furry, whining hoard. Heracles was napping on a loveseat across the room with five cats snuggled against him lovingly. Kiku himself had two purring, content felines to pet and cuddle with. 

Kiku liked being with Feliciano and Heracles. Feliciano was cheery and optimistic. Heracles was never too overbearing. They all shared a love for cute cats and well-prepared dishes. They cared for each other’s well-beings. 

Kiku had stopped crying. He could never cry in front of others, it was an odd tic. Being out of the house and never left alone by others, he was not given an opportunity to shed anymore tears. That much was appreciated. Too many tears had been shed over a boy who wouldn’t even call. Too many tears had been shed alone in a dark house waiting for him to call or to come back to him. 

He stared blankly into space with dry eyes, absently petting the cat. 

Feliciano snapped him out of it a bit when he burst in with three plates of spaghetti. Heracles woke up slowly to the smell of food, stretching lackadaisically like one of his cats. Kiku was going through the motions. Do what Feliciano says and eat at the table, nod agreeably along with the conversation, pretend to listen, pretend to care, occasionally put in input so they think you’re following along, make them feel good about what they’re doing for you, eat, don’t think about  _ him _ , comment on cats, don’t think about him, don’t think about his laugh, don’t think about his smile, don’t think about holding him, don’t think about him holding you, don’t think about his eyes, don’t think about his kisses…

Don’t think about the fight.

Don’t think about what you’ve done. 

Don’t think about him. 

“Kiku, you’ve barely touched your pasta!” Feliciano pointed out. Kiku blinked, staring down at his food. 

“I am sorry,” he apologized in a rush, moving to eat some of it. Feliciano and Heracles were both staring quietly at him now. Oh, wonderful.  

“Kiku, it has almost been a month…” Heracles said in his low, slow voice. 

“Has it?” Kiku’s voice cracked a little. He couldn’t meet their eyes. His mouth felt dry. He wasn’t hungry. 

“It has!” Feliciano piped up. “And, tell you what, I am tired of seeing you moping about over this silly pretty boy!” he said it lightly, cheerily, but Kiku grimaced nonetheless. “If he cannot see what you had together was beautiful,” Not the best thing to say, Kiku thought “then that is definitely his loss!” Feliciano giggled. He put a hand on Kiku’s wrist. Kiku shirked away. “He does not deserve a man like you, Kiku! You need to get yourself back out there!” he suggested excitedly. 

“... Out there?”

“Why, yes! Oh, my dear boy! I know just-a the place! There’s a bar in the next town over, a pretty nice place, that caters to men of… similar tastes,” Feliciano gave an exaggerated wink.

“A… bar? Feliciano, I’m not 21--”

“I didn’t say we’d  _ drink _ anything, just scope out some handsome men--”

“Wouldn’t the clientele of a bar be a bit… old… for me?”

“Likeminded teens and young men hang around the place all the time!”

“But…” Kiku sighed, out of logical reasons why that was a horrible idea. He ran a hand through his hair. “No, Feliciano,” he croaked. “I… Can’t… I’m not ready to ‘get back out there’. If you and Ludwig were to break up so suddenly, would you be over him so quickly?” Feliciano sighed too, looking pained. 

“Very well… At least come out with us for some coffee, then? We need to get you out on the town somehow. Fresh air will help!”

“You’ve been saying a lot of things will help me,” Kiku grumbled bitterly, poking around at his spaghetti with his fork. 

“Well, something has to!” the Italian said simply, flashing Kiku a bright smile. 

 


	29. Brunch

Alfred had come home to Arthur washing dishes. Arthur turned around, ready to be angry at Alfred for storming off to Kiku’s, but then saw Alfred’s puffy, tear-stained face. And he’d understood. Arthur had sighed and hugged him, quiet as Al hiccupped and choked on sobs. 

Days had passed, Alfred staring at the phone, wondering if Kiku would call. Wondering if Kiku would apologize again. But Alfred hadn’t accepted Kiku’s apology had he? What good would an apology do? Yet, he sat near the phone, waiting. Waiting for what, he didn’t know. Anything. 

But nothing came. 

Francis, of course, was doting and sympathetic for him. Francis brought him ice cream and other sweets. Arthur said he was proud of him for doing the right thing. Sometimes doing the right thing hurts, he’d told him.

It didn’t feel like the right thing to Alfred. It felt like more could have been done, but nothing had been. Alfred had left Kiku with his unaccepted apology. And he had to deal with that. 

Alfred was still moping, staring tiredly at the phone over his comic book, distracted again by thoughts of what could have been. Francis burst in, breaking through Alfred’s gloomy fog. “Alfred! I know you have been feeling down lately! But I am here now to get you out of this house! It will be good for you,  _ non _ ? Out and about on this sunny day!” he swirled his scarf around his neck with his usual zest for life, disregarding the bruises that still stood out in stark contrast to his skin after a month, but were disappearing with time. “Come with us, won’t you? I’m treating your brother to brunch,” he explained

“Third-wheeling with you two. Sounds great.”

“Your sarcasm hurts, Alfred. Just sit with us. Have some soda. Get your mind off of unpleasantries. I hate seeing you so sad.” 

“ _ Fine _ . I’ll come,” Alfred grumbled, setting aside the comic book with great effort and dragging himself dramatically out of bed just to prove that he wasn’t very excited about third-wheeling a gross ‘engaged’ couple. Francis seemed satisfied and left with a little jump and a ‘yay!’ 

 

The three of them piled into Francis’ car, Alfred alone in the cramped back seat. He hadn’t actually  _ showered much _ since he’d broken up with Kiku, so he just heaped on some cologne he stole from Artie and greased his hair back. Boom. Makes it look like you haven’t been crying over a boy for days. 

Seeing Francis and Arthur so happy together didn’t really help anything. They two of them bantered and made snarky comments at each other constantly, but they looked  _ alive _ , they  _ glowed _ standing next to the other. 

Alfred wondered if he ever looked like that with Kiku. 

He quickly shoved the thought out of mind. He wasn’t with Kiku anymore, no matter how cute that boy was. Plus, Artie and Franny had been together forever, they were already practically married; it wasn’t a fair comparison. 

Alfred sunk into his leather jacket as he dragged his feet far behind his brother and Francis when they got out of the car. Of course they’d come to Antonio’s Cafe. Of course Francis had to be friends with Antonio. Of course Francis and Arthur chose to have brunch at the place where Alfred and Kiku had had their first ‘date’. 

The three filed into a booth, Alfred next to them yet feeling a million miles away.  _ Don’t think about Kiku. _ Alfred kept telling himself, grinding his teeth unhappily. Of course that was impossible. And then Alfred was feeling his eyes get puffy and red and itchy and wet again, trying desperately to hide it. Trying not to let a sniff betray him. 

But it was his fault, wasn’t it? He hadn’t even given Kiku a chance. He hadn’t thought on his apology for one second before leaving him like that. He hadn’t given Kiku the chance to properly explain himself. Alfred could have called. Alfred could have stayed. They could’ve talked this out. Artie would’ve been pissed, but Artie was always a pissbaby about everything. Artie could get over it.  _ Francis _ was over it, after all. The whole world sucked, but holding a grudge against someone who made it seem to suck less was totally not cool. 

But it wasn’t like Alfred could accept Kiku’s apology now. It wasn’t like Kiku would take him back now. It wasn’t like everything would be okay after all this. 

Lovino the waiter was coming to take their order when the door opened with the tinkling of a bell. Alfred absently glanced up towards the noise. 

And his eyes met familiar brown ones as the two spotted each other at the same time. 

“Lovino!” cried a joyful Feliciano, scampering over to tackle his brother in a hug. Arthur looked up, tensing at the sight of two enemies. Francis set a calming hand on the Brit’s knee before rising himself. Feli’s eyes lit up. “ _ And Francis _ ! Long time no see!” the affectionate Italian hugged Francis too. Arthur looked ready to get up and back hand the man. 

“What are you doing?” Arthur asked, his voice positively venomous. Feliciano blinked, confused at the angry tone. 

“Did you not know? Francis and I have been buddies for years! I don’t get to see him very often, though!”

“You befriended Feliciano to mess with me, didn’t you?” Arthur addressed Francis now. Francis scoffed, ruffling Feliciano’s hair as he did. 

“ _ Please _ ,  _ mon amour _ … As  _ hilarious _ as that would be, no. I knew him before your little immature spat popped up. Though, it brightens my day a smidge to know that it would have messed with you, had you known. It  _ is _ my goal, after all, to be the bane of your existence,” Francis shot him a wink. 

“Your ‘friend’ is one of the reasons that you were beaten up in a dark alley! You’re lucky to be alive, Francis! Did you forget  _ that _ ?” Arthur snapped. Alfred was hardly listening, his eyes were focused on the one person that wouldn’t look up at him. 

“Of course not! But it is not dear Feli’s fault! Nor is it Kiku’s! Or even Ludwig’s!” Francis proclaimed, making a wide, sweeping gesture as if he were delivering a Shakespearean monologue. “It is the fault of foolishness and rashness when you were all young and full of anger! This is no  _ new _ development that the rumor was leaked about you and I’s partnership! We are merely starting to feel more repercussions now! These were  _ not intended _ . I have  _ spoken  _ with Ludwig and Feliciano here about this; they only meant the humiliation of a few knowing it. They meant no physical harm. This is no feud lives and relationships deserve to be ruined over!” Francis’ gaze flickered to Alfred pointedly. Alfred flushed, looking again at the person whose eye contact he was trying to capture. 

Arthur stared at Francis, flabbergasted. “You _talked_ with Ludwig? Why didn’t you tell me these things earlier?” 

“I was busy  _ with my job _ ! I was busy  _ with you _ ! I was busy being  _ beaten by strangers _ ! When you lost your job, I had a conversation with Ludwig about what you had told me. This is what I learned. You would never have listened so soon after being evicted from your home due to such old mistakes. Will you listen to me  _ now _ ? Will you let this feud, these mistakes,  _ die _ ?” Francis finished his speech, breathless. Feliciano clapped enthusiastically for his words. Arthur spluttered a bit when he realized that everyone was waiting for an answer. 

Arthur chewed the inside of his cheek, looking away in fuming, frustrated thought. Slowly, silently, he looked back at Francis-- the love and concern for the injured man apparent in his eyes-- and simply shrugged. “Maybe…” Arthur sighed. “Maybe it is time that I sit down and have a conversation with Ludwig myself.”

He stood up, nodded respectfully at the others watching him, and strode out the door. The bell tinkled behind him with hopeful resolution. 

Then, he returned because Francis had the keys to the car and hadn’t followed him as he’d made his grand exit. “Francis, darling, please…” Arthur looked betrayed. Francis blew a strand of blond hair out of his face in annoyance. 

“ _ Now _ ?! What about  _ brunch _ ?! I planned this, Arthur Kirkland!” Francis protested. 

“This has been a long time coming! Let me have my moment! We can come get cafe food some other time, yes?” Arthur gestured for him to come along. Francis tossed his head pridefully.

“We are going to  _ come right back to this cafe _ and you are going to  _ pay me back for the wasted gas _ .” Francis stalked after Arthur. 

They sped off, leaving Alfred sitting in the booth alone. 

“That was very nice! Oh, I’ll be so glad to see all of this resolved!” Feliciano mused to Heracles Karpusi and… the one person that Alfred could hardly bear seeing right then. Feliciano’s face fell, looking between Alfred and Kiku. “Speaking of, there is still so much sadness here. I will be glad to see  _ that _ resolved as well.” Feliciano grabbed Heracles by the arm and tugged him out of the cafe. 

Kiku did not follow them. Alfred did not move. They did not look at each other for a long while. 

They said nothing. 

And then, Alfred did. “Hey… Kiku? I’m sorry I didn’t accept your apology back then. That’s really been eating me up. I want you to know that. I know you’re sorry. And I don’t want to be mad at you. Are you mad at me?”

Kiku met his eyes, sending a thrill through Alfred’s entire system. Kiku shook his head. “I’m not angry with you, Alfred.” The brown-eyed man sat down across from him at the booth.  


	30. Toasts

It began again, as many great things do, hesitantly but quickly regaining momentum. Alfred and Kiku talked. At first, they were cautious, worried that what they had had was irreparably damaged. But then Al was asking about about comics and superheroes and manga until they flowed from topic to topic like they had never parted ways for even a moment.

And Alfred kissed him on his front porch after walking him the whole way home. And he never wanted to leave. (But settled for scheduling a date for that weekend). 

Three weeks later, Alfred held Kiku’s hand as he watched his big brother and Francis Bonnefoy walk arm and arm, exchanging rings and vows in secret for a bond recognized only by the two and those watching. They were a motley band of misfits, the line between greasers and socs blurred: Ivan, Yao, a blubbering Feliciano, a softly smiling Ludwig, Gilbert, and Matthew. 

Sodas and champagne were popped open in celebration afterwards. Golden wedding bands shone on Arthur and Francis' hands, glinting as they lifted their champagne glasses for toast after toast made to them. The mood was sparkling and celebratory, the Kirkland-Bonnefoy household clamoring with the joy shared between the group of friends. Alfred and Kiku barely managed to escape the madness of their friends and siblings. 

The two sat outside on the porch, Alfred’s leather jacket draped over them both for warmth. Kiku leaned against him contentedly. No words were necessary for them in that moment as they stared out at the world together; the little smiles that wouldn’t seem to go away were enough. Al slung an arm over Kiku’s shoulders, hugging him closer to his side as he took a swig of his Coke. He watched the bubbles dance around happily in the soda thoughtfully. “You know what?’ Al asked decidedly. 

“Hmm?” Kiku hummed, snugly cuddling into Alfred’s embrace. 

“We’ve given Artie and Francis, like, a bazillion toasts tonight. And they deserve every last one. I’m so proud of them. But how about one to us? At  _ least  _ one. We’re pretty awesome together; I think we’ve got somethin’ really special between us,” Alfred told him. Kiku looked up at him, his  _ gorgeous _ eyes sparkling in the porchlight. 

“You know what, Alfred?”

“What, sweetheart?”

“I think you’re right,” Kiku agreed softly, his smile lighting up his entire face in the most perfect way imaginable. Alfred raised his soda bottle, grinning. 

“Alright-y then! To us?”

“To us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed! Feel free to check out my other works, leave kudos, comments, criticisms, etc! <3 Happy New Year 2017, guys!


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